Magnificent Mile
by adharmic
Summary: Alice works as a gourmet chef for one of Chicago’s finest dining establishments. One night, her past arrives in the form of a man she only thought she never wanted to see again. Rated M for language.
1. I Think You'd Better Leave

_Summ: Alice works as a gourmet chef for one of Chicago's finest dining establishments. One night, her past arrives in the form of a man she only thought she never wanted to see again. It's not easy to run when you don't know exactly what it is you're hiding from. (This is a ficlet, only going to run for about 3 chapters if all goes according to plan.)_

_A/N: So this a new thing for me, the whole Jalice pairing. If it doesn't seem completely in character, it's because I've transplanted their personalities. Heh. _

_I want to – no, NEED to - thank my beta erosazul who puts up with my cracked out plotlines that I spin towards her like whirling dervishes. I guess one actually stuck. Enjoy!  
_

* * *

"I am the best. Nothing will go wrong, because I AM the best." Her breath whooshed in an arc of steam into the cool night air. Cracking her white knuckles, and wringing them together to rid of the growing tension, she lifted her left leg and shoved it behind her. Striding into the back room through a double swing door, she quickly scrubbed her hands, turning the faucet with her elbow and hurriedly wiping them with the hand towel that hung from a wooden ring.

Metal clanged against metal, bright lights exacerbating the heat when Alice Brandon finally did up the second button on her chef's jacket, bearing the black embroidered title of _Chef de Cuisine_. Steadily making her way into the cogs of the kitchen, she was disappointed at what she first witnessed. It was not an auspicious beginning to her first opportunity covering for the actual head chef, who was currently running a workshop for culinary students in Nice. While Chef LaSalle had been unusually present and available for the bulk of the last few years, his promise of relegating more power to her finally came to fruition as she was placed at the head of the kitchen for his first three month absence. Starting tonight. It wasn't hard to believe that she was still greasing the bearings on her relationships with both the kitchen and front of the house staff.

"I've got only one chef working the meat station, what the HELL is wrong with this picture?" As of jolted by the sting of an electric prod, two white jacketed individuals scrambled madly, taking up their proper stations. One's hair escaped her toque and she wiped back the sweaty curl from her forehead as she dove into tenderizing a slab of veal with a meat hammer. She softened the blows with a cautionary glance from the chef standing to her right. He softly whispered instructions to the _commis_, urging her to work at a less frenetic pace if she wanted to follow the rhythm of the usually efficient kitchen. But today would be difficult: Chef Brandon was wound the tightest of them all and they weren't equipped to take her authority in stride. From dinner service prep almost three hours before to the time in which a steady flow of customers entered the dining room, there was little Chef Brandon didn't find fault with. Prior _sous_ chef or not, she had them on edge and unfamiliar with her leadership.

"Weber, you're roundsman tonight. After you get that prepped, I need you in line at the vegetable station. Think you can handle it solo?" Weber, of course, didn't think she could, but she had little choice in her answer. There were three others assigned to vegetables, and she would hardly be pressed if she assisted even one of the others. But Weber was an apprentice, and Alice's words left little to be disguised. Weber's worth as a potential employee was being tested, and her future at the restaurant was being held in the balance. With Chef LaSalle gone, Alice was king. Nodding meekly with a halted 'Yes, chef', Weber finished pounding the veal with vigor, handed it over to the meat station, and commenced combining the spring greens and pre-roasted cherry tomatoes for a _frisee_ salad.

Alice quickly rounded the usually spotless counters, picking up spills in the hasty movements of her chefs, eager to finish service in a timely manner. The white gold gleam of the kitchen fluorescents was already dampening the back of her exposed neck with sweat, but she didn't lessen her scrutiny. _'We endeavor to be the best'_ rung out in the forefront of her mind, in rustic, French accented tones she had grown fondly familiar with in the last two years.

Chef Laurent LaSalle was responsible for the creation of _Le Bon Plat_, a beautiful French haute cuisine restaurant that resided in the heart of Chicago. It was so elemental and derivative of what he had experienced as a burgeoning chef in Aveyron, that he had commissioned three different cheese, wine, and produce specialists of the southern region of France to dispense their wisdom on the quality of ingredients. It was not a simple task being under the employ of Chef LaSalle. There was no application process. In fact, you had to be specifically chosen.

Alice made it an integral part of her daily routine to remember this fact. Ever since the day Chef LaSalle chose _her_.

He never questioned why she had so abruptly left a lofty _sous_ chef position at _Le Deux_, a three Michelin star restaurant in San Francisco. He was merely concerned with what she, a talented, young cook with a knack for discipline, could now offer him.

_His ruddy features were complemented by a light coffee complexion and his wide, walrus mustache almost obscured an equally wide and good natured grin.  
_

"_Your demonstration of your preparation of coq au vin was sharp, meticulous; you are obviously very adept technically. But I am not going to pretend to be impressed with your credentials Ms. Brandon. It is not in my nature to fawn over the Le Cordon Bleu label." Alice, unequivocally cocky with the breadth of her experience at the age of twenty seven, furrowed her eyebrows at Chef LaSalle's statement. She had spent four years of culinary school at the French Culinary Institute in New York and acquired a grant for a year's apprenticeship in Paris at the acclaimed Le Cordon Bleu. She had trained under French cuisine experts unmatched anywhere in the world. She did however, take with a grain of salt, that while she was undeniably good, the grant may have been acquired more out of favor than actual merit. Her grandmother on her mother's side was after all French diplomat, Marion Benoit.  
_

"_But he couldn't know that," she contemplated with uncertainty. "Could he?"  
_

_His grin expanded at her confusion. "Ah, I see you are troubled by my lack of reaction."  
_

"_I don't assume anything of anyone, Chef." she clipped back.  
_

_Yes, of course she was upset. She had just attempted career suicide by resigning from a position she had desperately aspired to as a professional, without any ostensible reason. Any reason other than that, as far as the head chef at Le Deux could piece together, she was certifiably insane. And now, while interviewing for a career opportunity in which she was confident of her abilities, enough to acquire a position as a line cook, she was deemed unimpressive.  
_

_Alice wasn't above begging, though. She would turn over her experience, swallow back her pride and begin again as a commis in Chef LaSalle's kitchen. Any which way, she would commit to Chicago and work in any capacity. She would never return to San Francisco. Not now, when she had already fled this far.  
_

_Her chest tightened and she brought her back upright in the chair. If she had already screwed herself to the point of no return, then she would sell herself to the highest bid. Modesty be damned.  
_

"_Chef LaSalle, at the age of twenty five I was assigned as __saucier__ to Le Deaux's kitchen. My Hollindaise and Bernaise brought in critics from __**Gourmet **__magazine by word of mouth. I was pegged as one of the top ten promising young chefs of the decade and was featured at least three times in their pages. Prominently." She paused to take in a breath and assess the stoic expression of the legend of a man before her. His eyes gleamed sharply though, scissoring their way through, and she continued. "In less than a year, I was promoted to sous chef. No kitchen on the West Coast could rival that of Le Deaux's when I was placed at the helm. I was THAT good." He still didn't speak. "Chef LaSalle, I have an opportunity to work alongside you, and that is an honor that can't be given or taken lightly. But I am always learning, always improving, and I do not operate under any bullshit. If you take me in, I swear, you will not regret it." Undoubtedly red faced and fighting off a speck of spittle that was threatening to fly out of her mouth in her frantic self-testimony, she sat back in her chair. She waited for a scathing review of how exactly her attitude had just cost her the position. _

_  
Instead she was met with a peal of amused laughter, punctuated with a grunt of approval as he set down her credentials.  
_

"_You are arrogant," LaSalle snorted, "More so than I expected. But that confidence is invaluable. It is true, I want you." She quirked her upper lip in pleasant surprise. "I'm not ready to promote anyone to sous chef from the inside. The staff is, how shall I say, not up to the task I feel. But you," he wagged a finger deliberately as he chose his next words, "you will be responsible for bringing them to that level. I am not a man fond of disciplining chefs who bask in their talent and refuse to improve. In addition, I am also a man of many pursuits. I teach as much as I cook. I am leaving you in charge, and when I am attending to obligations outside the country, you are the one running my kitchen."_

_  
Alice nodded in understanding. This was not new territory for her. She had managed kitchens single-handedly before, albeit on a smaller scale. _

"_You will be authoritative. You word will be final when I am absent, and therefore the consequences of your and the staff's decisions lie solely on you. While my cooks look to me for leadership and opportunity, you will essentially decide their fates. They will look to you for discipline and they will learn the need to impress you in order to impress me. Inevitably, they will come to hate you, Ms. Brandon." A joyous chortle escaped his mouth, and he assessed her smugly. "Is that something you will find difficult in handling?" he asked, already knowing her answer. _

_  
She radiated with absolute conviction when she stated, "Not even remotely."_

"_Ah, good. You know, we endeavor to be the best." He smiled and nodded at her confirmation. _

Alice cemented her future in a dimly lit office on a red leather armchair that afternoon two years ago, sealing off the painful reminders of her past with a stiff handshake and stroke of a pen. Or so she thought.

When the front of house manager, Henri, cut in through the kitchen doors searching for Alice, she was at first unaware of his presence .

Instead, she was furiously concentrating on expediting the plates that were lined neatly on the stretch of counter reserved for service pick-up. Much to her chagrin, the presentation of each dish had been left a second priority by the nervous cooks, behind the rapidity in which they plated the food.

She clenched her teeth in frustration as yet another dish of salmon roulade clattered before her, edged with a splatter of brown sauce. Throwing down her rag, she caught the attention of the entire kitchen. They halted and anxiously anticipated her displeasure, conveyed by her unrelenting glare.

"These plates are coming in dirty. This is unacceptable -."

"Chef Brandon-." The manager made a futile attempt in capturing her attention.

"I want clean, contained platings." She demonstrated the dimensions she wanted with a sharp stroke of her flattened palm. "I don't want the entire dish falling apart at the seams, because you are too lazy to ensure proper placement of the food." She waved her hand over the minor spills and stains on the edges of the square dish. "You are professionals. I don't want to be the one finishing your plates for you. Check. It. Yourself!"

"Chef-."

"Focus on the aesthetics. If I find one more sloppy garnish, I'm having Henri send the front of house staff home, and YOU will be bussing tables. Understood?"

"Chef Brandon!"

"For fuck's sake, Henri, what!!?" Alice spun towards him and he flinched at her ire. She may have only reached the height of his chest, but the manner in which she bit out her response more than compensated for her short stature. The kitchen staff, no strangers to her invective, deigned to continue working and erred on the side of caution in positioning the parsley garnish.

Alice, registering the shell shocked expression on Henri's face, softened her expression. She reminded herself that she needed to win alliances with the front of the house through communication, not aggression.

"I'm sorry, Henri. This service has been a little taxing. What is it you wanted?" She held her voice firm, but nodded inquiringly at Henri.

He relaxed and explained his interruption.

"I'm so sorry Chef Brandon, but there is a gentleman outside in the front requesting your presence. He says it's urgent."

Alice was never prone to exaggerated gesticulations when people worked her last nerve. Instead, her thin lipped glare spoke volumes over what she thought of the gentleman requesting her presence. She had limited time into which to work the employees into a cohesive unit and Henri had the unfortunate task of dealing with…people. She rolled her eyes, her hands never ceasing in their precise movements, even as she gave her disdainful reply.

"You'll have to inform him that I am currently working and guiding a team of fifteen chefs and kitchen assistants. If he has either a complaint or compliment regarding the food, I'll be available to speak with him after the dinner service ends. Otherwise, he's welcome to throw on a spare jacket and lend me a hand back here." She edged past him to read over the orders for table five and make sure their appetizers were ready and plated.

But Henri continued, tailing after her as she gave a brief okay to the servers.

"But Alice," he lowered his voice to a murmur when casually addressing her. "This guy's asking specifically for _you_." She paused. "Not the chef. He says he knows you? He's being really persistent. I tried seating him, but he wouldn't…I just don't know what to do."

Alice's forehead crinkled in confusion, as she paused in her movements. Who was asking for her specifically? Maybe Bella and Edward? They sometimes stopped by on weekends, but usually waited until the end of her shift to hassle her about the filet mignon being a little on the rare side.

"Um, is the guy tall? Has reddish-brown hair? Looks like he maybe has his girlfriend or wife with him?"

Henri shook his head, none of the details registering with him. "Uh, no. I mean he's tall but he's blonde. And he's alone."

Alice jumped and turned, almost upturning a plate holding a blood orange and grilled endive salad, which she thankfully steadied. Her heart began pumping double time as she considered what Henri's description meant. It could mean that she wasn't as careful in covering her tracks as she thought. It could mean he…

_  
There are a lot of single, blonde men in Chicago_, she reminded herself. _Tall, blonde men who dine in restaurants of this caliber on busy nights like this. _

But how many of them ever come to see her?

She cleared her thoughts from the place they were streaming towards and managed to pull herself together. Her eyes remained wide and wary, though, when Henri pleaded with her.

"Alice please, I've already got five parties _with _reservations waiting thirty minutes apiece for a table. This guy's been backing me up for the past ten minutes, just…please." Alice glanced at Henri's exhausted face and the tie around his neck that had flown askew in his anxious rush.

Taking a deep breath, she reached her hands forward and straightened it for him. She promised herself that everything would run smoothly tonight, and everything would. No matter what.

"Yeah, okay, don't worry about it. Just send him to the east banquet hall." She patted his shoulder. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

With a relieved sigh and a thank you, Henri rushed out as quickly as he had come in

Unwilling to lose composure in front of her staff, she squared her shoulders and turned towards them.

"Alright, I have to step out for a few minutes. Cheney?" The sympathetic chef, who had assisted Weber with the meat hammer, lifted his head eagerly and awaited instructions. "You're in charge of finishing the plates until I get back." She addressed the rest of them while backing slowly towards the exit. "Cheney's in command, don't think he won't report back to me."

A chorus of "Yes, chef" followed her out through the double swing doors, this time into the dimly lit ambience of the dining room.

Her fists alternately clenched and loosened in anxiety as she meandered through the maze of cream linen tables and colored glass décor. However, she gave no sign of her distress as she paused at the occasional table and inquired of the guests and their food with a warm smile; satisfied when they showered her with glowing reviews.

She peppered one last welcome to a regular, seated at the mouth of the annex leading to the banquet halls. When Laurent had expanded _Le Bon Plat _to include the accommodating spaces, the restaurant's profits had increased significantly due to rentals for company luncheons and private celebrations. The only thing Alice had in mind when meeting her visitor in the empty room was to avoid causing a scene. Regardless of who it was, she knew she would have difficulty maintaining a sense of professionalism if she carried out an encounter with them by the maitre d' podium.

The wooden door leading inside was already propped half open, half of the ceiling lights already switched on for her benefit. She brushed aside the heavy, crushed velvet curtain that obscured access to the main hall from the small entry foyer and inhaled the mustiness of the room. It hadn't been aired for a few weeks.

As her stomach sank even further at the sight of tall, lean figure straight ahead of her, she took in a shaky breath and managed a few deliberate steps before halting.

He did the same.

If she was under any misconception of who it was before, she was most definitely not anymore.

His hair was a little shorter and darker on the sides than she remembered, and his face seemed slightly more composed as opposed to displaying the easy smile he usually wore. He donned gray tailored slacks and a thin black sweater over a white button down shirt. Fairly standard business attire for him, she knew.

What she didn't know was why he stood before her now.

"Wha-?"

"Alice." He spoke resolutely, her name almost painful and undeniably beautiful rolling off his tongue.

"Jasper."

The expression her voice brought to his face destroyed any pretense, and a relieved smile broke onto his face as he took her in. She attempted to hide the red stain on the cuff of her jacket by hesitantly crossing her arms.

"Wow." He took a few steps closer, about five feet now separating them. "Wow. You look so completely different, but the same, you know? You look…great." He grinned wider, exposing a row of gleaming teeth. "Your hair is different…I mean I like it. It suits you."

Alice had chopped off a sizeable chunk of her black locks after leaving San Francisco, personally citing the need to embrace change as a reason. However it had recently begun to grow somewhat, causing the ends of her usually spiked hairdo to curl.

She fought the urge to smooth her hand over it self-consciously, instead tightening her arms across her chest. Her face remained impassive as she reminded herself that he had just carelessly pulled her out of the one of the busiest and most important nights of her career.

His initially amused grin began to waver as he took notice of the stony silence she was maintaining.

"Al-."

"What are you doing here?" Her voice rang strange to her ears, authoritarian and cold as if she was speaking to a member of her staff.

He gazed at her, incredulous that she had even asked the question.

"I think it's pretty obvious why I'm here, Alice."

She became irritated with his refusal to answer her directly.

"No, actually it really isn't."

He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, rippling and shimmering in the light of the room. He muttered something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like 'I can't believe this', and glanced at her again to reassure himself that she was joking.

She wasn't.

"Fine. You know what? Fine." He clipped out the words and mirrored her stance, crossing his arms. "I'm here because work brought me here and I thought I'd stop by and say hello." Alice narrowed her eyes, squinting past his annoyance. "Obviously, traveling halfway across the country doesn't exactly warrant a warm welcome!"

"You came to say hello?" Alice's voice was now dangerously low and soft, a precursor to the rush of anger that was now steadily building within her. Her temper kept her from rationally approaching the hidden meanings in his words. It would hurt far too much to confront any larger issues at the moment, so she decided to take out her conflicting emotions over him being here in the worst way possible.

"Do you realize that this is my place of work? That I am responsible for an entire kitchen? That there are people depending on me to run this entire establishment?" She waved her arms violently towards the door. Jasper's eyebrows strung themselves together in concern, as if he hadn't even considered the possibility that she would be under enormous pressure on this night, of all nights. "Can you even consider for one second, how ridiculously unprofessional it was for me to step out during a _Saturday night_ dinner rush to speak to someone in the banquet hall!? You couldn't wait!?"

Jasper opened his mouth, but the only sound that escaped was a small break in his throat. While Alice had made her point, he seemed just as adamant in making his own.

With a sincerely abashed expression he explained himself.

"I'm sorry. I am. That was selfish of me. But I couldn't wait. I didn't want to talk myself out of coming- ." Alice started in on her own assessment of why he should have done just that, when he held up his hand to imply he had something more to say. "Wait. Just listen. I' m also here to give you something. If you'll take it," he added with a hint of resentment.

Reaching into the front, right pocket of his pants, he pulled out a folded white envelope. The edges were bent, as if it had been crammed into a small space for a long period of time, and only recently discovered and extracted. As if it wasn't meant to be found.

"I found this in Pete's things." Alice froze, her words no longer forcing themselves out of her throat to be hurled towards him. "There was this book stuck in one of the boxes I took from his apartment. I didn't even get around to going through it until now." He let out an awkward laugh, bending his arm at the elbow and sheepishly rubbing the base of his neck, as if he was the one at fault that the letter hadn't reached its intended target. For all Alice knew, maybe he was. "Anyway, I found it there."

Her anger tempering, Alice eyed the envelope with equal parts morbid curiosity and debilitating sorrow. This was not just another loose end of hers that she now had the responsibility of tying up. No, the onslaught of memories Jasper brought with him almost consumed her where she stood.

_  
Peter_. The name silently echoed, again and again, in her mind, and she felt the beginnings of a trembling sob collecting in her chest. But she swallowed it back. She had a kitchen full of employees that she had to answer to once she was done here.

Jasper, his sympathetic eyes trying to lock with hers, brought himself closer, barely a few inches separating them now. He carefully closed his hand around hers, lifting it slowly as she unfurled her fingers. She continued staring at the musty space over his shoulder.

He gently placed the stiff paper in her hand, bending her fingers into a fist over it, edging so close towards her that she thought his shadow would imprison her to the very spot in which she stood. She noticed he smelt clean, as if he had recently showered or shaved. Underlying that was a subtle hint of him. Of Jasper's skin and hair.

It was the remembrance of that embedded smell that nearly brought her to her knees. Mostly from the shame she felt in being so near to him when she had completely sworn to never be in that position again, from the day she had left.

Tilting her face downwards, to their clasped hands, she noticed a bit of familiar, thinly curved writing on the back of the envelope; the envelope that was addressed to her by the man whose face she would never be able to look into again.

_  
To Alice_

_ - Peter_

Alice's breathing stuttered before she spoke.

"What is this?" she whispered. Her voice was comparatively insubstantial to what it had been before.

Jasper leaned his head down towards hers, twisting their fingers into knots.

"I think you should probably read it yourself." he replied softly, his breath lightly caressing a wayward curl on her forehead.

There was such implicit intimacy in his stance, in the way he protectively encased her hand, in the way his voice washed over her. If she stood in his presence for another minute, she felt as if the walls would tumble around them. And then she would explode from the burgeoning guilt and shame.

Backing away quickly, her hand left his and he stood perplexed, like he didn't understand the reason for her hesitation. Like there was absolutely nothing that tainted the moments they exchanged.

She glared at him, her rage at his presence making a full return.

"What is this?" she demanded again, this time furious. Jasper backed away, his features tightening. "So you came here to deliver me a letter from my dead fiancé? Am I supposed to be impressed or will this help you sleep a little better at night?" She shoved the envelope into the breast pocket of her jacket, planning to drop it off in her coat in the back room before she returned to work. She would deal with it like she did with everything personal when she was at the restaurant: Later. "It doesn't change anything, Jasper, for you or for me!" Nothing ever changed; her achievement and contentment caught in constant flux as she tirelessly sought ways to make it better. A step forward and clean slate had proved to be more difficult in sustaining than the guilt.

Jasper's tortured expression finally broke down into disbelieving anger. His hands went through his hair again, this time clamping down on the roots.

"Fuck! Fuck, Alice!" Alice just shook her head. "_You_ don't get to be angry, Alice. Not about this."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Alice felt something awful seep through her. This time it was mortification at the words she anticipated he would say next. He shot a bitter laugh in her direction before raising his voice in incredulity.

"It means you left nothing for me. Nothing. No phone-call, no e-mail, not even a goddamn post-it stuck to your door with the word 'good-bye' written on it!" He stabbed a finger into his chest. "Pete was my best friend. Did it even occur to you that I was hurting? God Alice, I was hurting so bad. Did you even remember me?"

The words kept churning in the air between them and refused to leave. The room didn't breathe and neither did she. If she inhaled, she would be forced to answer.

"I guess not, because _you_ left the fucking state. Like I was fucking nothing to you!"

His chest was heaving in exertion and this was the first time Alice had seen him become so unglued and reckless in his words. She wondered if he had changed that much in two years. And if maybe she was the one who had changed him.

Channeling her inner stoic, she set her face into stone once again. This had already gone on for far too long and she needed to put it to an end. She already knew how much she was at fault. What he refused to acknowledge was how wrong he had also been, indulging their mistake.

"First, you need to calm down." She waited patiently as his fuming tapered off. "And second, I think it would be a good idea if you left."

He gave her a tired stare.

Now." she finished quietly.

Jasper's face transitioned to that of a desperate man's when Alice turned and began stepping behind the curtain towards the door.

"Alice please, we need to talk. I'm here for another few days. I'm staying at the Hilton on Michigan Ave. My cell number's the same. I…" He struggled to catch her outside the room, but she didn't look back.

Alice didn't catch the remainder of his sentence as she strode out of the annex, this time not stopping to greet anyone when she marched back into the kitchen. 

* * *

Later that night, Alice was applauded out of the kitchen after a successful dinner shift. As she bid goodnight to the remaining staff that were busy cleaning and closing up, she stopped in the backroom.

Weber was busy finagling her coat off a hanger and didn't notice Alice until she caught her gaze. "Angela?"

"Chef Brandon?" Weber wasn't sure why Alice had singled her out in this instance, and wasn't confident if she should be either honored or terrified.

"Great work tonight." Alice cocked a half smile as she stated her approval.

Weber fought the urge to blubber out a 'thanks' and commit a slightly juvenile fist pump.

"Thank you chef." she answered softly, a small bit of shock and awe coloring her voice.

Alice continued bundling a scarf around her neck as she made her way outside, attempting to ignore the object that weighed as heavily in her coat pocket as it did on her mind. 

* * *

Review? But of course, only if you feel so inclined.


	2. It's Not Safe In Here

Over a hundred readers and no reviews? Ouch. It's okay, though. It's comforting to know people are actually reading this in the first place! This is looking more like 4 chapters now that I've properly outlined it.

Once again, thanks to my beta, erosazul, because she's cool like that.

Ahem, I won't forget the disclaimer this time.

I own nothing of Twilight or its characters.

Enjoy!

* * *

"It's so freaking cold in here. Could you crank up the thermostat for me?" Alice had swathed herself in the wool throw blanket she kept on her living room couch, attempting to ward off the draft that had entered her warehouse converted apartment.

"I've got news for you, sweetheart. This is _Chicago_, the city you moved to two years ago." Alice's closest friend Bella smirked back at her, lounging in Alice's overstuffed olive armchair with both legs hitched over the arm. "No amount of _cranking_ is going to make the wind disappear and deliver you back to San Francisco weather."

Alice shrugged, the hood of her sweatshirt falling behind her as she dug deeper into her seat. In celebration of Alice's minor success in completing her first night solo on the job, Bella had promptly arrived, unannounced, at Alice's apartment with a bottle of Shiraz and a plea to come inside from the cold.

That was almost and hour and a half ago. It was nearing one in the morning, and Alice couldn't be more grateful for the company. The headiness of the wine wrapped her in a soothing haze, warding away the dark thoughts that threatened to overtake her.

Alice stared into her wineglass, the light glinting off the surface of the deep red. Coupled with her prior exhaustion, the effect was hypnotizing.

"Hey, I could have brought white if you preferred." Bella shifted uneasily, as she noticed Alice's intense, almost angry, stare into the glass.

"What, no, no." Alice righted herself and gave Bella a deprecating smile. "It's not the wine. I'm just considering the fact that half of the kitchen staff probably wants to eviscerate me with a Nakiri blade after tonight. I also managed to scare the shit out of the maitre d'." The lie slid so easily from her mouth that she almost surprised herself with her words.

"Ooo, Alice 'the heinous bitch' made an appearance?" Bella chuckled in empathy as she adjusted the black, square rim glasses' frames on her face. "I have no idea what a Nakiri is, but it sounds painful."

"It's a Japanese sushi knife."

"Ahh."

There were a few moments of content silence, before Bella snorted into her wine.

"What?" Alice quirked a curious eyebrow. She persisted in her question when Bella just shook her head, still snorting. "_What?"_

Bella waved her hand dismissively, tipping her glass at a precarious angle. "I was thinking I would pull some strings and send Mihir, our food critic at _The Journal_, to _Le Bon_ so he can interview you in the kitchen." Alice rolled her eyes. Bella was still vying for a chief editor position at her publication and Alice was grateful she didn't have the right pull just yet. "Just to scare the living shit out of him."

"I'm glad I'm so entertaining."

"Aw, come on, don't be like that. I'd be doing you a service. If word got out that you don't put up with nonsense, then people know not to piss you off. In fact, they'll respect you all the more for it." Alice shot Bella a withering stare. "We could even publish you with your very own moniker, you know like…_'Iron Fist Brandon_.' It'll become a household name." Bella dissolved into laughter as Alice cracked a grin at the absurd title.

"Uh, no thanks, really." Bella, still letting out an occasional guffaw, placed her glass on the glass center table and headed in the direction the bathroom. Alice pulled her sweatshirt even closer and inhaled deeply. After countless washings, it still smelled warm and of home, of small town Mississippi where she had grown up with her elder step-brother Emmett. It was his much too large varsity football sweatshirt that she was drowning in now, the one she had nicked the day he left for college. He had left it in her possession, and the feel of it reminded her of simpler times, when she had been so eager to skyrocket out of her hometown and begin her future.

On some days, she would have given anything to go back for a nostalgic slice of 'uncomplicated.'

Emmett and his wife Rose were in Raleigh, North Carolina now. She hadn't spoken to them since they had given her some good news almost a month ago: Rose was pregnant after almost five years of marriage. Alice could barely contain a jaw-aching smile when their jubilant voices echoed over the phone.

_A baby_, Alice had thought. The rest of that day Alice couldn't brush off the nagging voice in her own head that questioned where her own life was headed. She had never really given thought to kids, but the more she contemplated it that day, the more she found she wouldn't mind. It would, of course, happen when things settled down for her professionally. Unlucky for her, the future wasn't something that was ever clearly sketched out.

This straggling train of thought brought her back to the memory that she had never wanted kids with Peter, and the cycle of guilt succeeded in crushing her once more.

"Hey," Bella's subdued voice struck through the self-imposed curtain of despair, circling away the black with the warmth of concern and friendship. Alice hadn't even noticed she returned to the room. "Where's your head right now?"

Alice opened her eyes and shrugged off the question with a non-committal laugh.

"Not anywhere too deep. I'm just contemplating the continuation of the Brandon-MCarty legacy through Emmett and Rosalie's offspring. Poor kid's going to have to suffer through a genetic predisposition towards beer helmets and road rage."

Bella was skeptical. Alice could see it in the way her mouth twitched to the side.

"So what you mean is, the fact that their pregnant brought you back to Peter." As always, she hit the heart of the matter, where the deepest ache resided.

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to." Bella moved off the wall and propped herself on an unoccupied cushion of the couch. Alice curled her feet inwards.

"Have you…" Bella mulled over her words before she slowly spoke them, not wanting to come off as insensitive. "Have you ever thought of maybe getting out there a little more? Maybe moving forward a little? Go on dates. Have crazy, meaningless one night stands. Anything?"

Alice snorted at Bella's assessment of what moving on would entail.

"Yea…I mean no…I mean…" She gave Bella a pointed look. "I work hard, you know that. There's a reason I moved to San Francisco from New York. For Peter. And there's a reason I moved to Chicago. For work. I concentrate on work, and there's no room for what happened before." she finished softly.

Bella nodded her head in understanding, not wanting to push the 'moving on' agenda further than Alice was comfortable with.

"And here I thought you moved because you missed my gorgeous, bitch ass." She joked, wanting to lighten the atmosphere.

"Ha, obviously that, too." Close friends over long distances didn't seem to cut it for them. They had grown lax in their communication before Alice moved; only visiting on the rare occasion. One of those times had been Bella's wedding to Edward back in New York, before he had switched medical residencies to accommodate her new job in Chicago. She remembered Peter hadn't offered to come as her date.

Peter's increasing dismissals of Alice towards the end of their relationship had spurned a whole set of questions to agonize over after he was gone.

"How did you know, Bella?" Alice blurted, not wanting to channel the heroine of a romantic comedy, but needing to know otherwise.

"How did I know that you like to throw random _non-sequiters_ my way?" Bella grinned cheekily, pleased with her teasing.

"About Edward. How did you know…about Edward? About wanting him?"

The mood noticeably shifted, and Bella could no longer ignore the obvious melancholy that engulfed Alice. Where was this heading? She gave Alice a half puzzled, half pensive stare as if it was a question that you could ruminate over for years and never possibly reach a neatly packaged answer at the end.

But despite her blatant acknowledgement of what had transpired as wrong, Alice's conscience struggled to unburden itself with some indirect justification. Even if only marginally so.

"Wow, that's a loaded question. I don't know. Um, we found each other young and then we were too lazy to see if there was anyone else we were compatible with. Okay, easy, I'm joking." Alice's glare prompted her take a more serious approach. "Let's see…oh yeah, one day we were reorganizing his collection of vinyl records in his crappy apartment and he was being anal as usual. All, _Handle that carefully, it's priceless _and _Don't carry it like a CD._" She gave a little laugh at her poorly executed Edward impression. "But I was kind of careless and sliced my finger on the edge of a case. It was a little deeper than I had first thought, and there was all this blood on the indispensable vinyl and his bed-sheets… and ugh, you know how I get around blood. Not only that, I thought he was going to eat me alive over the record. So while _I_ was freaking out, he handed me a tissue to stop the bleeding, had me lie down, cleaned up the cut with a wet towel and then held me until I felt less nauseous. He kept saying HE was so sorry, it was his fault for distracting me, which was stupid." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "But weirdly enough, after that day, I couldn't imagine my life without him. It was like if I tried picturing my life five years ahead, cutting him out of the scenario, I would draw a blank. So there you have it. It's not a great answer, but it's mine."

Alice remained quiet, drawing in her own reaction to Bella's story. There had never been a landmark moment for her and Peter. Maybe there didn't have to be one, maybe it was relationship specific, but she had never experienced it. She then reminded herself that the false hope she took from Bella's words was just that: False. There was no justification.

"Oh, he's also hung like a horse, did I mention that?"

Alice's stunned expression morphed into one of faint revulsion as Bella grinned. The silence grew between them again.

"So then, there's something else? C'mon Alice, your suppressed memories are practically screaming at me."

Alice exhaled in frustration not wanting to confirm or deny anything. There was a small but very damning piece of information that she wasn't ready to share with anyone, including her best friend of six years. She wouldn't be able to bear the expression that little fact would definitely render on Bella's face.

But she rationalized that she could disclose a little, without the whole mess unraveling. She spit out her encounter at the restaurant.

"I saw Jasper." The words rushed out without her even meaning to say them so fast.

Bella sat befuddled a few moments before the words fully registered. Even when they did, the confusion barely left her face.

"Wait, San Francisco Jasper? I mean, Peter's friend, Jasper?"

Alice pinched a string on her blanket and pulled. "Do you know any other Jasper's I'm not aware of?"

"Huh." There was a note of intrigue in her voice as Bella swept her long brown hair off her face and pulled it back into a ponytail.

"Huh, what?" Alice inwardly panicked at what that reaction meant.

Bella suspiciously took in Alice's averted, downwards stare, trying to glean some more information from her words.

"Huh, as in I didn't realize you guys were friends beyond Peter. Huh, as in I didn't realize he was in Chicago."

"He's only in town for business. He stopped by the restaurant. I'm pretty sure he still works as a junior agent for that independent film house I told you about. He actually might be living in L.A. now, for all I know." Alice took a deep pause. "And we're not friends."

That was the truth according to Alice. They weren't friends. Alice still couldn't make sense of what she felt for Jasper, even after two years of self-imposed isolation.

Bella quirked an eyebrow in interest. "But I gather you talked?"

"Yes. He had something of Peter's he wanted to give me." She pulled a little further on the gray string, observing the strands as they began to stretch and unravel.

"What was it?"

"A letter." Alice stated simply.

"Oh." Bella said lamely, clearly taken aback. "From Peter, before he..." Alice gave a languid nod. "Well, what did he write?"

"Don't know. Haven't read it, yet." Her voice was oddly flat, disembodied as if she was mimicking the words of another. The string was reaching its breaking point, holding on by the tiniest of threads.

"O-kay?"

Alice could feel Bella's eyes penetrating through the flimsy veneer of her story. She knew Bella would notice her reticence in discussing Jasper, even after she had brought him up.

Bella's concern grew as Alice refused to meet her gaze. She decided to be as forthright as she could in the situation. There was something else ringing loudly behind what Alice had said.

"Alice, what are you hiding from me?"

The string broke in one clean movement, _twanging_ sharply as it yielded to Alice's fingers.

_So much_, she answered in her head.

But she outwardly brought her glass to lips, swilling her wine lethargically before she took a mouthful and swallowed. She felt disconcertingly light, as if she was floating without anything to anchor her to the ground.

"Nothing I want to tell and nothing you want to hear." Alice stated firmly, her eyes now fixated on the darkened hallway she was facing.

A silence that could rival a sonic boom followed her statement.

Bella knew to take her cues when she was given them. Now was one of those times. She knew Alice wouldn't be forced into disclosing anything, and until she was ready, Bella could change the topic. She _would_ change the topic.

Clearing her throat, she brought up the first thing that entered her mind.

"So, how about you tell me how much you hate the fact that I'm planning you a big _surprise _party for your 30th in two weeks, so I can cancel the whole shebang. We can spend your entire birthday getting drunk on that _grappa_ I bought in Tuscany last year."

Alice groaned, flopping her head onto the couch cushion.

"Bella, your uncanny ability to always kick someone when they're down continues to astound me." Alice mentally reminded herself that she wasn't exactly one for laying herself bare, and that she was incredibly thankful for the distinct turn of the conversation.

"Oh it's not so bad." Bella breezily reassured her, as she stood up and slid clumsily back into the armchair. "Thirty is the new twenty, and all that jazz." She smirked as Alice dragged her gaze back to Bella. "Thirty suits me just fine."

Alice snorted. "Uh, that probably has something to do with the fact that you still get to have ridiculously hot sex with your 'well hung' husband."

Bella's cell phone chose that second to chime, the sound echoing deeply in the cavernous, yet strangely sparse area of Alice's apartment.

Bella gave an 'ehh' in response to Alice and smiled as she read the contact on her screen. Pressing a button, she answered in a breathy tone.

"Dr. Cullen, how can I help you?"

Alice heard Edward's static voice reply, deep and husky, uncomfortably so for Alice. She unfortunately had no choice but to listen since Bella had accidentally left her phone on speaker.

"_You can help me by getting your sweet butt home because I haven't seen it all day and I want to spank it. And then you can help by riding me until - ."_

Bella gasped out a laugh as Alice spluttered on the sip of wine she had just taken. "Jesus Edward, stop, you're on speaker!"

"_Wait, Bella, what?"_

"You're. On. Speaker."

A pregnant pause followed as the truth finally sunk in.

"_Are you still at Alice's place?"_

Alice could think of nothing else to do but hold up her wineglass cheerfully in a fit of tipsiness and exclaim, "Hey Edward, we both knew this awkward moment would come someday. Oh, by the way, congratulations on your large endowments…"

Bella cut off the speaker at that moment, reassuring Edward that Alice had not said what he thought she had.

"Yeah, fifteen minutes…Mhm…don't worry, I'm not walking… I'm pretty sure it's hit absolute zero outside…a cab…mhm…love you too…bye." She pressed the end button and turned to Alice in glee. "He's not even embarrassed. The horny bastard."

"And, with that, the vomit seems to have made its way into my mouth." Alice cringed under her blanket from the blatant displays of affection.

"What's the matter, Alice?" Bella bent over to grab her coat and scarf off the floor. As she pulled them on, she began gyrating her hips in small circles. "You don't like to hear that my husband gives it to me daily, nightly, and _evaaah_ so rightly-."

She dodged a throw pillow Alice tossed in her direction.

"Oh my god, _please _leave. I can't take anymore!" Even through her disgust, Alice's face began to shade crimson from laughter.

As they both quieted down, Bella studied Alice intently, as if she had no idea how to go about telling her that she was concerned that Alice was passive aggressively unleashing two years of pent up guilt and resentment. She took the open bottle of wine and corked it and then walked into the kitchen to set it down. She traipsed back to stand over Alice.

"Hey, go easy on the sauce tonight. You should really get some sleep." Alice wearily nodded in agreement. The uncomfortable lightness she was experiencing was beginning to make her stomach lurch.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay? If you don't answer my call after three rings, I'm going full out _Police Academy _on your door." Alice's uneasiness grew at Bella's parting, and she considered for a second if she could be selfish for one night and just ask Bella outright to stay and sleep on the couch. She didn't want to be by herself; she wasn't good company. But she knew Bella would honor that request, no matter if Edward was waiting at home, and Alice couldn't see herself being so…needy. She shook off the idea and gave Bella a small smile and a 'yea.'

Bella began her walk to the door, pausing suddenly as she twirled around with her face set. Alice waited, a little startled by her abrupt turn.

"You asked me before, why Edward?" Alice nodded, puzzled. "It's because, barring the sex and the charm, I love _him_ so much I'd be willing to give up the use of both my legs and a kidney. I'm certain he feels the same about me." She gave a rueful half smile and shrugged. "In the end, whatever _happened _or will happen, that's all that really matters."

Alice's held her mouth agape as Bella closed the door behind her with a soft _click_. Had her guilty visage been that transparent?

Alice wasn't sure if that statement even applied to her, and yet the idea that love washed away all sins seemed too easy. Too…redeeming.

She caught a glimpse of her coat out the corner of her eye, but her legs remained motionless, as if attempting to keep her self-preservation intact. The letter had unfolded and was hanging practically halfway out right pocket, winking like a dying star in a sea of black wool. It was technically an easy task, to walk up to the coat, wrench the letter all the way out, and rip open the contents. So easy. So simple. So…so much like tearing at a wound that had never fully healed but had instead scabbed over and festered. She stared helpless, barring memories that would eventually have her reeling, but she was no match. They tore through.

_Alice stood outside Jasper's apartment, fingering the strands of hair that had grown to the middle of her back. She wondered why she had allowed it to get to this point as it was starting to get in the way at work. Work. That reminded her that she needed to ask for extra time off at Le Deaux so she could go away with Peter this weekend. This was a weekend she had worked hard towards, booking reservations at a bed and breakfast in Napa and clearing Peter to see if he would go along with the entire thing. She basically had to pull his two back molars before he finally acquiesced, but even then she noticed the resentful hints he had been pushing towards her all week. And here she was again, doing all the work, pulling all the weight just so she could heal the breaks in their relationship; get them back where they used to be. _

_The door flung wide open and interrupted her musings. But it wasn't the door that had startled her. It was more the man she was currently facing that was unexpected. _

"_Jasper, what are you doing here?"_

_He cocked an arrogant eyebrow, smugly leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. "Uh, I live here Ms. Alice."_

"_No, I know that. I mean..," She huffed as she ran a hand nervously across her face. She was never sure what she meant anymore. "Peter told me he was spending the afternoon at your place, to use your darkroom…and he said you'd be out." She added, her voice tapering off as his face darkened. _

"_Yeah. He wasn't around for long. I took my work home, so I'm actually pretty busy…" Jasper flexed his fingers around the knob of the door, coming frighteningly close to catching her hand in the hinge as he moved to shut it. She was so sick of half explanations, of brushed off dismissals at her efforts at rebuilding. A fucking door always being shut in her face. _

"_Jasper, what?" Alice's petite, sneaker clad foot kicked the door to a halt, the pressure of her tiny leg countering the surprised falter of his arm. "What is it? Is this about Peter? Did he put you up to this?" It wasn't like Peter to mobilize anger directed at her through the loyalties of his friends, but after the way he had been acting, she wasn't exactly going to rule it out. _

_Jasper remained in the throes of shock, unsure of how to proceed. Had she honestly just kicked his door in with him half-behind? _

_Alice's balance stuttered slightly as her leg remained raised and planted. "Because I'm not the one who fucked up. I work, and I work, and I slog to make sure everyone is happy. To make sure that every-fucking-one is happy. Everyone, except me! And now you…"_

"_What do you want from me Alice?" Jasper's hands rubbed over his eyes and he abruptly turned, causing the door to crash loudly against the wall and Alice to lose her leverage. She managed a recovery from her potential fall. "I'm not interested in being tangled up in whatever little… "_

"_Don't act like I don't know exactly what you've been doing." She shook her head accusingly, attempting to afford a few judgmental moments before he conceded defeat in his actions. It was so easy to place blame on the periphery of her relationship breakdown. She bit her lip hard, shielding her watering eyes with the action of massaging her forehead. _

"_What, you're going to cry?" The insensitive needling of his words did little to stem the flow of emotion. But in reality the anxiety that crept into his words signified that he cared if she cried, especially at his hands. _

_He covered his lapse in sensitivity with further questioning, weary and unsure of how to proceed._

"_This is really absurd, Alice. What have I done?"_

"_You've been avoiding me." Her glance dared him to contradict her and her frustration built as he didn't move to defend himself. She hoped she had been wrong." I just…I thought… I haven't gone two days without talking to you since I moved here." She threw up her hands in resignation. "And now you just…I don't know. You're so accusing…and cold. Are you picking sides?" The hurt and anger that had developed like a piece of sun bleached film finally spilled over. She wouldn't take any more falls for Peter, that wasn't her style. "I'm so damn sick of this. You both need to grow up…"_

"_That's fucking hilarious coming from you!" The exclamation was a departure from his bemused sarcasm and the intensity of the feeling behind was not lost to her. It had also apparently caught the attention of a middle aged man in a suit, who rattled his newspaper uncomfortably as he passed apologetically by the open doorway in response to their blank stares. _

_The hall was now as barren as the conversation between them. Jasper didn't move to close the door. He was obviously fed up of dancing around his glaringly obvious issue with Alice and Peter. _

"_What is that supposed to mean?" He paced and he immediately regretted the bender he had been on this afternoon. He had just finished attempting to hold in a decent conversation about Alice with Peter while wearing a hard, forced smile and a drowning himself by way of seven Blue Moon's. And now this. He was saying so much, and explaining so little to the woman in front of him. She wouldn't understand. _

_Alice could almost see the inebriation swirling around him, causing her suspicious face to blur into an indistinct shape through his heavy eyes. _

"_Are you drunk?"_

"_That's not the point!" He staggered slightly, catching himself and restricting the shallow heaves of his chest. She stepped forward instinctively and he growled out that he was fine. He was always just 'fine'. A few moments passed, jagged breaths breaking the silence. "It's hilarious that we need to grow up, Alice. You knew Peter. You knew what he was like. And you went ahead with everything. He won't grow up for you. He won't do that for anyone. He can't give…Alice, he can't give you…"_

_Alice never thought Jasper shared her opinion of Peter's shunning of responsibility in their relationship. Even so, he wasn't making much sense. Confusion overrode any further dissection of his words. "Jasper, what are you talking about? Can't give me what? "_

_She would never see and he was so very, Fed. Up. _

"_This will never work. We don't _work_ like this, Alice. I'm done." He gestured in the air between them, as much a coward and a liar in that moment as he internally accused her of being. "Leave. Just…fucking leave." _

"_What is there to work out?" Alice hand now ripped through her hair, her fingers catching in snarls and painfully coaxing the roots out her scalp. Jasper was her friend. Jasper was her friend. Jasper was her friend. _

"_Jasper, you're my friend." He didn't raise his eyes to acknowledge her statement. "You didn't have to be, and yet here we are. Please don't take that away from me." He had been so accepting, so warm and laughingly charming that she couldn't resist the closeness he offered her. Her recollection of Peter's growing distance didn't seem so impossible to confront, didn't seem so hopeless, with Jasper's encouragement. He _knew _Alice._ _Knew her enough to understand how secretly afraid she was of losing the last thing that kept her anchored to this place. That kept her anchored to Peter. "Do you understand or do I have to spell it out? You're the only-."_

"_I don't want to be your friend. I am not going to be the man you lean on when you're trying to work out your problems with Pete. I am so sick of being that guy." His responding whisper was soft, menacing, and final as it cut through her declaration. "The last thing in the world I want to be is your goddamn friend." _

_But why? She was alone, constantly fighting a battle with herself for allowing such a drastic change in her life, for a man who understood her as little as she understood herself. She was holding fast to a reality that was surely separating at the seams, and Jasper had solidified her fear of this. Peter would leave and the Jasper she had been so foolish into believing she could trust would follow him. _

_She was alone. Nobody wanted her, a truth she should have recognized before it came to this point, and now it was her fault that she was alone. _

_The shock of his statement left her very little time to notice his eyes betraying the agonized gleam of words unsaid. _

"_Don't say that. Please, don't say that." She incoherently pleaded in a painful whisper, her eyes one again filling with a renewal of hot, stinging tears that refused to fall. Her fingers reached out to graze the smooth skin of his wrist. She simply succeeded in causing him to flinch, that flash of contact incensing him even more into a quiet ball of fury. _

_Why was he so angry?_

_Alice didn't regain rational thought, his words like gravel scraping over her knees, until she felt the harsh, heated clasp of his hand over her wrist._

_Jasper, don't throw me away. Please. _

_There was no farewell and the door gave a merciless reverberating thud as it slammed in her face. She was left standing where she had started. _

_When she finally reached home, she dialed a number into her phone, still dazed as she sat motionless and apparently, friendless, in her living room. She pushed the green send button. _

"_Napa Old World Inn. This is Mina speaking."_

_Alice hesitated before the words left her lips in low and defeated tones. _

"_I need to…need to cancel a reservation for this weekend. Under Alice Brandon."_

_The cheerful voice on the other end faltered a little in a disappointment but still retained its professionalism. ._

"_Oh, well we're so sorry to hear that you and your guest won't be joining us. Was there a specific reason for the cancellation?"_

_Alice sat silent, even as woman repeated her question, a hint of worry creeping into her tone. _

_Alice could honestly not think of an excuse to give. _

Even as the lights burned low and dim from the ceiling, Alice felt uncomfortably cool. The warmth that had presented itself in the form of her sweatshirt and Bella had dissipated. The cold condensation of a nervous sweat settled on her skin and the chill had begun to burrow in her bones.

Cold and clammy and so tired. And yet her eyes wouldn't close.

"I didn't see." Tears were not something Alice usually indulged in, but she gathered her knees to her chest as they fell freely down her face. Alone and in the near dark, no one would ever have to know.

* * *

Reviews are the Calvin to my Hobbes. Or something like that.


	3. You and I Were Never Meant To Be

**I own nothing of Twilight and mean no copyright infringement. Any other famous establishments or publications seen throughout this story are not mine for the taking, either.**

**This chapter was a long time coming and I apologize for my tardiness. All I have to say is that my RL held me captive for two and half months. I no longer have any idea how long this story will pan out to be, but it will be wrapped up soon. Thanks to everyone who favorited and alerted this story.**

I also have to warn that this chapter contains even more language and adult situations that aren't exactly suitable for the kiddies. That means 18+ only, por favor. I'm not comfortable with the corrupting of minors through my bad words.

"_So, Bakin' and Eggs for brunch at 11:45. Capisce?"_

"Your Italian is almost as bad as your French."

"_Mon Dieu_. Your attitude leaves a little something to be desired this sunshiney morning, _Iron Fist_." Alice flinched at the booming tenor of Bella's phone voice and how it seemed to ping like a pinball and reverberate back into her skull.

"I'm really not interested in a three-way brunch invite when all you're going to be doing is licking Edward." Even as the words left Alice's lips, the adamant refusal was weakened by the lingering effects of a modest hangover and the scratchy dryness of a sleep saturated throat. The dregs of alcohol that still remained in her system did little to stem the slight nausea that had accompanied her waking.

"_Oh, you watching me lick Edward? Sounds kinky. How about we move that up to 11?"_

"Good-bye."

"_Hey! I was just warming up to the idea of a three-way..."_

Hanging up on Bella never seemed to produce the result of her actually recognizing the end of the call. It was usually preceded by some off-color remark on her sex life or, if she was hungry, a half formed thought regarding Joe, the oddly placed hot dog vendor who broke up the upper class monotony of the Magnificent Mile. Bella had dubbed him Abe Frohman, in a frenzy of Ferris Bueller induced hysteria, the REAL sausage king of Chicago.

Either way, Alice reasoned that Bella made good on her pledge to check up on her at the earliest convenient hour as Alice had awoken to an obnoxious chiming that had invaded her subconscious. Her dreams disappeared into wisps of smoke as she struggled to open her eyes against both the emboldened rays of a rising sun and salt caked lids from the tears she seemed to have shed even after succumbing to sleep.

Last night had done little to solve the dilemmas that pricked progressively harder on her mind as she rose to face the morning. While the shock had steadily waned at Jasper's appearance, her curiosity and dread had grown exponentially overnight.

She glanced to her right as she stretched out the unfortunate kinks in her body that resulted from a halfhearted sleep on her leather couch.

Her wool coat continued to hold the white envelope captive.

She went to the bathroom, dousing her toothbrush under the cold tap and stalked to the living room area with the frothy mouth full of mint paste. Her feet moved of their own accord and she was steps away from the same scene she had awoken to.

It was still there.

Wrapped in a towel, marking wet footprints upon the wood as she battled a bone chilling draft, she went to check again.

Still there.

Before leaving the apartment, Alice pulled a pair of face engulfing, aviator sunglasses that would help ward off an unwelcome glare. The black, wool coat that she had worn last night lay shrouded in it newly acquired mystery as she pulled on her alternate, a high collared white cashmere jacket that didn't fend off the cold nearly as well as she would have liked.

Tempting fate was not on this morning's agenda, and she strode out of her building, tugging hard on a strong will that just wouldn't yield to the vulnerability within her: the small voice that pleaded with her to confront herself.

As she entered the restaurant ten minutes after the designated time, she caught sight of two figures huddled over the morning paper by the plated glass windows. One marked the third seat in their corner as off limits to brunch stragglers stalking tables for empty chairs, by placing his scrub clad leg diagonally across the seat.

She kept the glasses on, attempting to visually drown out the slightly higher than acceptable din that surrounded her, and winced a path to the table.

"Is that chair for me, or did you grow a third leg?"

The newspaper settled with an abrupt rattle, revealing alternately weary and mischievous smirks. It seemed Bella had been as hard hit by their heavy drinking the night before, as her voice rasped uncharacteristically with her tired smile. And here she had seemed so well adjusted during her morning check-up. She lifted her head off the shoulder of her table-mate.

"Well, Jackie Onassis, it's about time you deigned us with your presence. Where's your pillbox hat?" Her words were dripping in a good-natured sarcasm that could only be appreciated in a tired greeting.

Alice hurriedly removed her sunglasses and coat, shaking off the alleged resemblance and poked at the light blue clothed leg occupying her place. The owner's smirk increased tenfold, and he wiggled his foot suggestively at her.

"I assure you, my _third leg_ is at least twice the girth…" His voice was heavy with insinuation.

"No, no, just no. Your wife graced me with enough of that shit yesterday." His hair incorrigibly mussed and his angular jaw enhanced by a four day stubble, Edward dropped his foot and shrugged dismissively. How it was possible to enter a hospital with such minimal regard for hygiene was beyond her. She took her seat not even bothering with a glance at the menu.

All parts of her simply ached for coffee. And for an answer, but she wouldn't find a piping hot serving of that here.

Edward continued, his face devilishly uncompromising as he lifted his eyebrows in question over the edge of his paper.

"So, last night, ehh?" Alice's face fell in aggravation at the ominous direction of his words. "You sly minx, Alice. I didn't realize all those times we were having such serious discussions about HMO's, you were actually mentally measuring my -."

"We were drunk." She blurted, glaring as Bella's shoulders vibrated with silent laughter into the arm of her cable-knit sweater. "Bella told me…it's…I didn't…"

"Still, my johnson wholeheartedly accepts the compliment." He informed her offhandedly.

"Oh, my god!" Her fingers found her scalp and glued themselves there, shielding both her burning, red cheeks that glowed under complete mortification.

"And you must have gotten Bella really revved up, because whatever I had planned, she did to me at least three times over…"

Bella nodded sagely, before nuzzling her lips into the crook of his neck. "Actually four, you're not counting the kitchen."

Alice's aching forehead settled against the formica with a heavy groan. Not only had unsavory images of the couple in front of her planted themselves in her head, but heated memories dredged from a not so distant past and a not so welcome guest uncomfortably reemerged from their prompt.

_The inside of her elbow tingled with pricks of deliciously unanticipated lust, his lips smoothed like windswept petals up the bare length of her arm. _

"_Jasper, this isn't right."_

She hadn't been able to suppress everything by moving to Chicago.

She dwelled too long on both, and realizing so, swept up her menu as a prop. The blueberry pancake special stared her in the face as the warmth traveled up her neck. It wasn't the time and she had no understanding or hope if it would ever be the place.

The fogged depression clouded over her once again when she recalled her unwillingness to even welcome the possibility of seeing him again.

"Alice?"

Edward's elbow lightly tapped against the laminated shield obscuring her face. She lowered it slowly, grunting out 'headache' as explanation of her weirdness and smiled weakly at the waitress who had arrived with a pot of dark roast.

Bella eyed her intently as the waitress made her rounds, her interest undoubtedly redoubled from last night's revelations and Alice's current behavior. Edward noticed nothing, accepting Alice's hysterically mimed reactions to their brazenness with thorough amusement.

It comforted her slightly that he seemed to know nothing. In a world in which she felt the constant presence of shrewdly aware eyes on her always, it was comforting to be offered ignorance.

Bella didn't extend the same courtesy.

"Edward, I want you to tackle down that waiter and change my order to French toast."

"Uh, what?" His eyebrows slanted, caught unaware by her sudden demand.

"French toast. Bread, egg coating, sugar. Bring anything to mind."

"Bellllaaaaa." Bella drooped like an unwatered fern at Edward's knowing tone, the Lucy to his Ricky Ricardo. "What are you up to?"

He gave a half-hearted kick to the leg of her chair, implying that is she was concrete in her demands, he would be up and running with a snap of her fingers. He wasn't buying her excuse at this point.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, and gave up the ruse. "Fine, then pretend you need the men's room while I try and force something out of Alice?" Alice's head tilted onto her shoulder, and she scowled, annoyed at Bella's admission.

"That sounds more like it." Edward jutted his chin quizzically towards Alice as she shredded a packet of Equal, imagining Bella's flapping tongue in its place. The granules spilt in a small pile that she scattered with shaking fingers off the edge of the tabletop. The woman couldn't stand an unsolved mystery, even if she had been relatively restrained and tight lipped last night, and at this point she was forcing Alice to contemplate violence. "What are you in for, Alice Cooper?" Edward asked, a little concerned that he had been unwittingly insensitive to her hidden predicament. "Last night not go as well as you hoped?"

The little patience that was tiding Alice over was wearing dangerously thin.

Gritting her teeth at Bella, Alice reassured Edward. "_Nothing_ happened. Last night at the restaurant was perfect, I wouldn't have expected anything less."

Edward grew apprehensive, glancing between Bella and Alice. If Bella was defiant, then Alice was downright murderous.

"And that's why you are miming passing a kidney stone?" he continued slowly, treading lightly where his steps were unwanted.

Alice bit back a retort and its place, directed a seething glare towards Bella.

Bella shook her head, tasting defeat, and her white surrender flag dragged down her words. "Fine, no one needs to leave. Conversation end." She deadpanned robotically. "Inserting new topic."

"Fine, I understand the signals. No juicy gossip for Edward." Edward raised his hands in mocking surrender, pulling back further into his chair while folding the scattered remnants of the business section.

Bella prided herself on discretion, on minding her own damn business. She promised she wouldn't pry, even if she was haunted by the pleading glint of hurt that decorated Alice's expression. She was wary of when the churning build up of suppressed emotion would come to a head and how it would impact Alice. But once again, she was undoubtedly unearthing issues and resentments that weren't prepared to come to light, just yet.

Alice relaxed marginally with the concession and tapped Bella's foot playfully in thanks and in silent warning. What she revealed she couldn't take back, and the less who knew of it, the better.

"I have the morning off because we're reworking the brunch menu at _Le Bon_. My chefs don't get their lazy asses into work until three. You have plans, or you got a free morning to piss away with me?" she offered hopefully in exchange for Bella's cooperation.

Bella hummed in regret around a burning mouthful of joe, clutching at Edward's arm to counteract the singing pain of her large gulp. Edward grimaced slightly in response to her grip, but rubbed her soothingly on the back of her neck.

"Ouch. I think my tongue melted." She swallowed loudly, recovering from the burn. "Sorry, can't today. I'm covering a story: The whole controversy surrounding the decision to nominate Chicago as a potential location for the 2016 Olympics." Alice's eyebrows rose in mild interest, but mostly in veiled skepticism. "What? Michelle Obama already left to represent Chicago in Copenhagen. There's going to be a big crowd surrounding that issue this entire week, shouldn't be hard to get a few interviews for an op-ed piece as well." She widened her eyes, conveying the gravity of the topic. "It's big news, baby."

"No, I understand. I just wouldn't get anyone's hopes too high for a positive outcome. Make it a pessimistic piece." Alice had lived abroad and traveled extensively. She was no stranger to the international community's collective opinion of Americans and the heavy propaganda that surrounded foreign nations. She wasn't in any way supportive of these sentiments, but had the distinct impression that the First Lady and her campaign would be outright shunned.

"Oh, but see, that's why it's called _controversy_." Bella rubbed her hands excitedly, her words still slightly thick from her coffee mishap. "More story for me!"

"Mmm." Alice was amused but mostly disenchanted by Bella's response. Now she had an entire morning to contemplate the reason for why she was so desperate for a few hours of companionship.

'Edward?" she inquired hopefully.

"Oh, now that you can't have me, you want me. No, can do." He lifted an arm off the back of Bella's chair while arching backwards to reach his coat. "I've got to check in to the hospital for a consult, if you haven't noticed the threads." He postured exaggeratedly in front of the table, earning the unabashed stares of an admiring group of women to their left.

"I think everyone noticed." Alice answered dryly, her eyes unfocused as he gave Bella a parting kiss and swiftly loped his way through the exit and into to the steadily growing throng of Sunday morning street-goers. Their neighbors conspicuously deflated in disappointment at his departure.

Alice gauged the less than subtle shift of the table atmosphere as she became the uncomfortable subject of Bella's deliberately trained gaze.

They were alone.

The two of them sat, mentally sizing each other up in a crowded room where the odor of gourmet eggs began to rend on their senses.

Bella's intent was clear as polished glass and when she made to open her mouth, Alice preemptively struck with a forceful reminder.

"I still don't want to talk about it."

"I didn't say anything."

"Good."

"Fine."

Bella lifted the rim of her mug to her mouth and Alice's lips tightened in mocking at her action.

"Don't burn yourself."

"Oh, bite me."

They finished their coffee in plaintive silence, interspersed with the awkwardness that accompanies the avoidance of eye contact and parted ways.

"I don't know what you think you saw, but that's the last thing Chef Brandon would be caught doing."

"Yeah, no one actually _caught _her, Raph. That's the beauty of it. She acts like a freaking hard-ass around here all the time and then she disappears for twenty minutes after slamming us into the ground over the platings. I overheard Henri saying she was_ taking care_ of a guest. You know what I'm saying?"

When Alice had left brunch, she had bloomed with tension, unsure that her idle hands and head could take the weight of a full, free morning. It had been with uncontained enthusiasm that she accepted a call from the poultry suppliers, who were apparently stumped when they arrived at the restaurant to a locked and empty loading dock.

Chicago dock worker unions had been riding a second wind throughout the late summer into the fall and now it seemed they had struck an opportunity to galvanize in the name of better wages.

The blue collar Chicagoans were on strike and Alice couldn't have planned such timing in her favor if she herself had stapled a 9x5 plank to a piece of condemning poster board and began picketing, .

After promising hefty checks to the deliverymen in the mail, if they agreed to unload the cargo themselves, she had wandered inside in search of some ever-present paperwork or prep that would keep her levelly occupied and assist her in crossing over to work mode.

That was when she dropped inside, and ambled past the kitchen. She had been shocked to hear the voices of a few of her employees, their voices raucous and uninhibited streaming from the back.

"No, I don't get what you're saying. You're such a jackass."

"Are you kidding me? All that pent-up aggression, shit. You don't think boss lady gets off on the domination? I know it get's me hot, and I'm not talking about the kitchen, homie."

"Mike, you and your lily white ass are getting a South-side beat down if you call me homie again."

Raph's threat unfortunately did not have the intended effect, instead spurring Mike's inflated theories into overdrive.

"Dude, Jess was waiting tables in Section 5 and she saw the guy walk out. Said he looked like he was in pain. Like maybe someone left him hanging without a…" He clicked his tongue with all the immaturity of a twelve year old flipping through a dirty magazine, "you know, a little something to help him _grease one out_."

_Oh God, _Alice froze in utter disbelief. If anything could call into question her credibility and judgment, it would have been the skeptical hire of one, Mike Newton. Fresh out of culinary school with a gigantic ego and less ambition than an entitled celebutante, Mike held a tenuous position as kitchen assistant and even that was running some of her brighter workers into the ground. With a mouth whose circumference rivaled Steve Tyler's., he had brought upon himself the title of kitchen gossip.

If only that meaning behind that title was as innocuous as she assumed.

They were talking about her. Everything she feared as a women, as a professional, and especially as both those labels strung together, knocked her with the ferocity of a wind tunnel.

There were no more words exchanged, which Alice realized when she pulled herself out of her head enough to note the stretching silence at the back of the room. One in which she imagined Mike was punctuating his remarks with a gesture crude enough to test Raph's patience with the overgrown man-child.

Alice pulled her wits about her. The only circumstance under which she would ever be talked about in her own kitchen by a man undermining her authority would be if the assumptions held a scrap of truth. And while she had to admit she didn't wholly exude innocence, his words were so out of line that they bordered on a spiteful jealousy.

In a different time, a different place, had she had more patience or had she not been undergoing an unanticipated personal crisis , maybe she would have used her position as 'boss-lady' to only knock him down a few pegs. Maybe just render a warning for creating and enabling malicious gossip, and make his position under her employ contingent on the idea that he actually did his job well.

But was she was the 'Iron Fist', goddamnit. And Newton was about to get knocked down the entire fucking row.

_It's a nice day for a firing, _she thought airily, her frustration from the morning taking on a different tone as she channeled it into a furious haze that she was sure visibly rippled in front of her. The double-swing doors swung violently in her periphery and when Raph's head jerked upwards from the force of her entrance, his face expressed his agreement that if he valued his job, he would stay silent. And keep manipulating the tube of pastry cream in his hands as if Newton's culinary career wasn't about to be obliterated.

Mike, fortunately, obliviously kept reeling out his demise "You know it makes sense. She's one frigid bitch. Teasing people like that, it's just cruel…ahhhh."

One automatic shift to his left put her straight in his eye line, and it was enough to leave his sentence hanging in barely concealed horror.

"Che..Chef?" She could almost observe his swift and utterly miscalculated reassurances that she hadn't heard a word he had foolishly said at her expense. Or at the least, she hadn't connected his words to her situation. His face drifted from frozen fear into a lazy grin as he leaned against the stainless steel of the sink basin.

"Oh man, Chef Brandon, you scared me." He chuckled, rubbing his knuckles confidently on the nape of his smock. "Raph and I are getting an early start, you know, taking initiative and all that."

Raph shook his head in sincere pity at the train wreck Newton insisted on perpetuating.

Oh, she would have so much fun cutting him down until nothing was left except for his smiling gums.

"Mike," her voice and smile took on a sickening sweetness, one that frightened the ever living crap out of Raph. "Please finish that thought." She asked under an amused charade, gesturing for him to continue. Even so, her words crackled with disdain.

He stared dumbly, still quite under the impression that he was safe from her knowing expression.

"What? I don't get what you're…"

Alice's fingers clinched the edge of the countertop she was leaning against like a vise. Her smirk disappeared, confusing Newton.

"Oh, I don't know. Its just curiosity I guess. The _frigid bitch_ wants to know who else she ended up screwing last night." Alice's face morphed into a deadly, pinched sneer as Mike paced backwards three steps.

"No, I didn't mean…oh, shit." His revelation ended in a whisper.

_Oh shit is right_, Alice raged silently.

"You can see my dilemma, right? I don't like little turncoats running their mouths off about things they don't know. You have something to say, Mike? Then say it. But say it to _my face_!" Alice's voice echoed in the trembling silence that filled the kitchen.

"Of course, you'd still be out of a job, but I might actually have some respect for you as a man." Mike stood ramrod straight, his eyes glassing over as he realized the potential consequences. She snapped her fingers deliberately to draw his attention to her verdict. "Truly, as one of the laziest, most incompetent, and ironically arrogant workers to ever pass through my kitchen, I thought you might actually have the decency to keep your head down and your nose clean." Raph, who was stricken by watching the proceedings, automatically curved his neck into a more submissive position.

She tugged on Mike's coat lapel. "This stays here. You're not fit to wear anything that pertains to this restaurant. If your locker is not cleared out within the hour, I'm calling Chef LaSalle's personal security team to have you escorted out of the building." Mike, still processing the shock of his impending joblessness, gaped at her and floundered with a futile excuse.

"You can't…no…you just can't."

Alice crossed her arms, unsatisfied that her words still hadn't seemed to reach him.

"Oh yes, _I can_. And I have. I also have it on good authority that Chef LaSalle was two seconds away from booting your ass out before he left, so good luck trying to sue anyone connected with his establishment."

It would have been an easy victory for Alice had he hung his head in shame, conceding defeat while sulking on his way through the door. She wanted every last defense ripped down, every misogynistic atom completely emasculated. But she knew Mike wouldn't leave without ensuring she heard what he really thought of her.

_Here it comes. _

He gripped the collar of his coat, ripping the buttons from their threads as they rattled to the ground. He threw the garment past her head before bending forward menacingly to make eye contact.

"You're nothing but a power hungry bitch who steps on everything that gets on her way. Yeah, that's been two years in the making, and it feels good to get it out." He spat. "I can not wait for the day until all this, everything, comes crashing down on you. You are going to fall so far you won't be able to recognize the bottom until you hit it head on."

Alice held his gaze without flinching, heeding no more than annoyance from his threat.

_You stupid bastard. You have no idea what it is to bottom out. I can't fall any further from where I am. _

She took some solace in this fact.

Raph finally growing disturbed with Newton's behavior and unprofessional words, and slightly surprised by Alice goading him, grasped the vile man by the shoulder. He pushed him stumbling towards the exit.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Mike? Get outta here!"

He fumed as he reached out to steady himself.

"Oh, and Mike." Alice continued in almost malevolent glee. Mike stalled at Alice's too charming voice, ready to go for another round if it was warranted. "You're going to have to find yourself another city or another career because you've just blackballed yourself for the entire city of Chicago." Her voice darkened. "That's a guarantee you know you can hold me to."

Even if she was relatively young, her influence reached far and wide within the city. Her colleagues wouldn't think twice over her _recommendation_ that they avoid hiring a certain, inept jackass.

Newton's fist collided with the metal sheeting of a row of ovens by the door, before shouting his vindictive farewell and scrambling out.

"Fucking bitch!"

"The one and only!" Alice replied in a mocking salute, spreading her arms wide and welcoming the insult.

She then slumped backwards, fury and weariness battling to take her over. She had not expected to have such a mess of a morning when she arrived. Her palms began to tingle in pain as she disengaged her fists from her sides. Uncurling them both alternately, she noted the crescent shaped indentations left in her skin by her jagged cuticles, a few even dotted with blood.

She never let anything get to her in such a debilitating manner. With the way she was feeling, she was surprised she was able to maintain some composure without going postal on the entire kitchen. And making some poor mixing bowls and the newly installed stove ranges her unsuspecting victims.

Raph assessed her warily, not wanting to spur another verbal thrashing in addition to being mildly discomfited by the fact that this was a side of the unyielding Chef Brandon he had never before been privy to.

He raised his hands in a sign of not so humorous surrender as she lifted her head and drooping eyes to acknowledge him.

"You know I tried to get him to stop, right? The guy's an idiot and didn't know when to quit. I'm sorry about the-"

Alice lifted her hand to cut him off and shook her head. "I think it would be in both our best interests if we pretended this happened differently. Or that it didn't happen at all."

Raph nodded in agreement, but continued his defense.

"I know. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry." He hesitated; busying himself with the last dessert he was preparing and piping across a fruit filling, swiping his tan finger lightly at a wayward ribbon of cream. "He was way out of line. He had no right to say those things to you, especially if he valued his job."

Alice glanced at Raph with a raised eyebrow, a little startled but not exactly surprised by this uncompromising show of solidarity. The six foot four, gentle mannered Raphael Cena was a product of a Puerto Rican family on the south-side of Chicago, and one of the most diligent employees who had ever climbed his own ladder to success. After working as a dishwasher and kitchen assistant for a year at Le Bon, he persuaded Chef LaSalle to sponsor his education at the Culinary Institute of America after presenting his skills in several cooking demonstrations. His application was of course accepted with the backing he had, and he was personally assured of a position at the restaurant after graduation. He had come back at the same time Alice had arrived, filling a position on their team of pastry chefs.

It wasn't shocking to find him here early, and Alice certainly didn't hold him responsible for whatever had been said. Even if she was still resentful that he had gotten an earful of the blatant lies.

"Well, fortunately, we both know people smart enough to recognize that fact." She laughed harshly, the sound forced out quickly as she straightened herself to a position of confidence once again.

Despite a burning curiosity to ask her in this rare moment of openness, about the mystery man the entire kitchen and wait staff had presumed to have seen, Raph simply nodded. His eyes still slightly nervous, he put down the tubing and grabbed the tray of fruit tortes to place in the industrial size refrigerator

Alice gave him a thin smile before winding back to the entrance to the dining room to begin her trek to the office. On top of her ever increasing workload, she grimaced when she realized that she now had to finish the paperwork that dealt with the restaurant's release of Mike Newton.

_Ah, I guess it's a little worth it_, she thought smugly as she unlocked the office door and flipped the light switch.

When she settled herself at her desk, reaching for the black corded phone that occupied the upper left hand corner, she was equally relieved and anxious to find her voicemail empty. Her late night visitor seemed to have gotten the message that even if she wanted, she _couldn't _have anything to do with him.

It was one less thing to have to consider right now, and one more thing to face in the days to come.

Jasper moved to add ice to his glass with a clink, taking in the generic décor of his dimly lit hotel room. The beige, turquoise, and reds of his wall began to swirl in random patterns of nonsense, and he laughed derisively at the idea that he was losing his mind even before he had even taken a sip of the marked-up bottle of scotch he had procured from his room's mini-bar.

_Madness is as madness does_, he thought, detached from the day's events and the client conference he had attended that morning. Only attended in body, that is.

His mind was only focused on one thing. And she was beautiful.

Keeping with his theme of disintegrating sanity, Jasper thought better of watering down his scotch and fished out the rapidly melting cylinder of ice.

Pushing off from the nubby fabric of his armchair, he swirled the amber of his drink before downing the whole glass in one fell swoop, swallowing the pleasurable burn that concentrated in his throat.

Jasper lifted his watch to check the time, almost amused that the day was diminishing into the deep hues of blue and silhouetted black that accompanied a city night. He had been almost motionless for four hours and the telltale tug of hunger pressed in his stomach.

Food felled his train of thought, as he humored the idea of trying his luck once again at the restaurant, and it carried his mind straight back to her.

_No. She asked me to leave. I won't go back there. _

The same sentiment was what held him back from contacting her hourly via the maître'd service phone in the front foyer of _Le Bon Plat. _

He groaned at the memory of her hand enclosed in his. The nightmare of uncertainty that shrouded the last two years seemed to lift at their light contact. After countless hours of research, private detectives, innumerable calls to her previous employer, he had ironically found her in an online feature for the now defunct Food and Wine Magazine. With one serendipitous click, the illustrious career of Laurent LaSalle's new protégé was laid before his eyes on a glowing screen. But he knew those details from long, intimate conversations that seemed to reside in another life. The one detail he needed was typed carelessly throughout the article.

_Chicago_. He had found her here, in this city of all places.

His window at the hotel overlooked the rolling greens and illuminated fountain of Grant Park, bordered by a steady stream of blinking lights that gleamed from the cars travelling on Lake Shore Drive. Beyond those ribbons of light, was a smooth darkness, the surface of Lake Michigan currently placid as the wind died down for the few moments he stood sentinel behind the cold pane of his window.

He decided that Chicago, being away from what had occurred, had been good for her soul.

_She's never looked so…good. Strong. Magnificent. _

_Well, _he amended, hardening the clutch on his glass until his knuckles shone white, _there was another time._

The first time Mary Alice Brandon had strolled into his life, he felt as if his world had shifted into a Technicolor dream. Nothing before her had ever seemed so vivid.

"_You've kept me waiting a long time." _

_Jasper's sweaty palms slipped against the side of the black D60 camera, his fingers bumping clumsily over the lens nozzle and buttons. The heat was a little too oppressive for an early October afternoon, and he had been contemplating finding some shade underneath the tree-line that spanned the park. Other parents and volunteers had already carved out spaces for themselves to settle into until the end of the afternoon's events. _

"_What?" he asked in confusion._

"_I said, you've kept me waiting a very long time." The voice appeared in front of him in the form of a woman, toting a large woven basket of royal purple eggplant. She squinted against the glare of sunlight and gave him a cheeky smile. "Well, us. You've kept us waiting a long time." _

_She was so small, all radiating energy and warmth and beauty in one petite package. He could barely believe she was standing in front of him, her ethereal presence accusing him of something he didn't fully understand. _

_His head swerved from side to side and he surreptitiously eyed his immediate surroundings for another person she might have been addressing. But there was only him. _

_He gave her a puzzled grin, not knowing why she was all of sudden choosing to talk to him, but not minding it even a little bit. His native Texan charm overrode any type of rational response his brain could form and he replied in a cheesy, exaggerated drawl, "I'm sorry ma'am. How exactly have I kept you waiting?" He couldn't help but construe her comment as flirting, and Jasper always gave as good as he got. _

_Her bright smile faltered minutely as she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. "Um, the kids? They've been asking about the group shot with their t-shirts since they got here this morning. Aren't you the photographer from USA Weekend?" _

_He automatically trained his eyes on the booth directly set up behind them, the banner "French Culinary Institute NYC: Kids Kan Kook 2006" waving in the light breeze that lifted past them. The intentional misspelling made Jasper smile. A score of giggling kids poked amongst produce scattered on a picnic table, picking the best tomato they could find for the cooking lesson that was about to take place at the hands of an experienced chef. A smattering of outdoor ranges and ovens were lined neatly in a row past the first, each paired with a sponsored booth. _

"_Oh, no. No,no." Jasper fumbled at the camera in his hands in embarrassment. "This isn't actually mine. I'm holding it for a friend while he uses the bathroom." He chuckled awkwardly, silently cursing Peter for taking his sweet time at the porter potties. And cursing the fact that an undeniably attractive woman he had just barely met was already disinterested in him. _

"_Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else. I guess you're off the hook then." She chuckled in apology, swiping at her forehead in mock relief. _

_He laughed along, not wanting give off the vibe he was in any way offended. When Peter had asked him to join him for a shoot he was assisting for a photojournalist at the New York Times, Jasper wasn't exactly looking forward to a sweaty afternoon in Central Park. Least of all surrounded by people he didn't even know. The event was an opportunity geared towards inner city kids, inviting them to partake in day of games and lessons while instilling the ideals of good ingredients and nutrition. Jasper hadn't known the cause was so widespread that it had received the backing of culinary establishments across the city, and even the state. But Peter had been insistent, urging Jasper to come because there was a girl he just had to meet. A girl Peter had met a month before in Paris that he claimed made him feel things he never knew he was capable of feeling. And she would be there, volunteering for her former school. That was the reason Peter had even brought his own camera equipment, as a favor to her. _

_In the rush and frenzy of the event, Jasper still had yet to meet the new girlfriend. He decided that if he could get a conversation started with his present company, the new girlfriend could spare a few more moments. The connection he felt was easy, as if he had been unwittingly waiting in the very spot he was standing for the purpose of running into her. _

_The girl cocked her head suspiciously after taking in his face, once again. He hadn't shaved for a couple days and was in serious need of haircut. He regretted his unkempt appearance of jeans and a t-shirt, as he swept a nervous hand to push back the dirty blonde strands sticking to his forehead. But she oddly enough didn't seem to be honing in on his appearance._

"_Who did you say you were here with?" she asked him, rising excitement evident on her face. She glanced at the camera again, not giving him time to respond. "I know that camera."_

_Jasper's stomach flipped anxiously but he dismissed her remark as coincidence. _

"_Well, I don't know if you know this one, specifically…"_

"_Oh my God, you're him! You're Peter's friend from the West Village! I can't believe I didn't recognize you! He's shown me pictures, but…here you are." Her unbridled enthusiasm caught him unaware as he struggled to come to terms with her words, outwardly staring blankly at her face mouthing words he couldn't discern. He noticed her eyes glinted mischievously through a murky hazel, the shades of green almost overpowering the brown. _

_She paused her rambling just to slant her eyebrows in question. "He _has _told you about me, hasn't he?"_

_And there was the confirmation. Jasper's throat almost closed with the force of his disappointment. For as long as she was talking to him, she belonged to someone else. _

_His tongue rasped like sandpaper against wood as he forced out the few words he could. _

"_Yes. Yes, he has."_

"_Oh, good. That's good. I got a little worried there for a second." Her hand went to cup the back of her neck, and Jasper followed the motion with dull eyes, swallowing painfully. _

This is Peter's dream girl_, he reminded himself. _

"_Hey, guys!" Peter finally bounded up to them in long strides, his buzzed head not overheating his brain like Jasper's mop of hair and his excitement bleeding over to the girl. _

_Jasper watched as she shifted the weight of her basket to her hip like she was the freaking Sun Maid Raisin girl for the entire world to fawn over. Her eyes and smile glittered as Peter closed in on them. With a sinking stomach, Jasper averted his gaze in order to avoid seeing Peter lay an almost exaggeratedly passionate kiss on the girl's amused lips. _

_It was the exact thing Jasper would have done, had she been his. _

"_Hey Jazz man, this is her! I guess you guys got started without me!" Jasper nodded with a stiff smile that hinted at a grimace. Peter noticed his sudden reticence. "Hey man, don't look so excited."_

_Jasper shook his head to clear the hazy air surrounding his thoughts. He had to get it together. _

"_Nah, I'm fine. I just didn't even get around to catching your name…" He inquired softly towards the girl he had no hope in ever winning over. _

_She tsked warmly, swinging her ebony braid over her shoulder. "Wow he hasn't gotten around to telling you my name." She elbowed Peter playfully as he nudged his head towards hers. "Don't I feel special."_

"_Aww, c'mon I wanted it to be a surprise." Peter bent down to kiss her cheek. _

_Jasper's melancholy spiked as he mentally voiced that she had been more of a surprise than he could have ever hoped for. _

"_Well," the girl stuck out her hand in determination, like she would be damned if she didn't make an effort now to make herself known. "I'm Mary Alice. But if you want to live, you'll just call me Alice." She grinned at her playful threat and it tore into Jasper. _

_There was nothing he could do. _

"_I'm Jasper." He clasped her hand lamely before allowing his arm drop to his side like a dead fish._

_She scoffed. "Well, believe it or not, I know who you are. This one won't shut up about you."_

_Peter rolled his eyes, before looking conspiratorially at Jasper. _

"_Hey Jazz, get a picture of us with my camera." He herded Alice towards him for a side hug, and Jasper glanced downwards at the item that had instigated the entire encounter. He felt himself falling nauseous from the bewildering flood of emotions that he had suddenly fallen victim to. _

_That day, Jasper captured Mary Alice in her white smock and shorts clutching fondly at the hand of his friend that lay casually on her shoulder. The blend of green and gold that served as their backdrop only enhanced the sharpness of her features, the humor in her smile. Jasper couldn't bring himself to tell Peter that she was all he saw in that moment, gazing through the viewfinder of his digital camera._

Jasper's glass shattered with satisfying intensity as it collided with the armoire housing the hotel's standard issue flat-screen television. He stared for a solid minute before becoming disgusted by his action. A little paranoid his temper had drawn unwanted attention from the next room, he sighed deeply and crouched down to collect the broken shards.

It had been five years since that fateful fall day. Jasper found himself failing once again in choosing the right words to help Alice understand the truth.

After last night, he wasn't certain she ever would.

**Geez, what's eating Jasper? Reviews are appreciated!**


	4. I Feel A Weakness Coming On

A/N: I know, I'm sorry for those who waited (Are you there, readers? It's me, a desperate fanfic author). It's fun to write again. The scene b/w Alice and Jasper in this chapter was inspired by the 90's most sensitive songstress, Ms. Lisa Loeb, and her song "How". If you don't know who Lisa Loeb is then you are too young to read this story. Twilight disclaimer and copyright notice apply.

* * *

The fucking Riverwalk. It was ten degrees out and Emmett wanted to stroll down the fucking Riverwalk.

She found herself outside on the most miserably gray afternoon Chicago had seen this winter because her chefs were growing irresponsible. Sloppy. Services began to falter on a daily basis, until Alice realized she had spent the last three post dinner feedback sessions screaming herself hoarse while everyone fixed their bored stares on the wall behind her. What had begun as an auspicious opening on her first night, only one week ago, was now on shaky ground in the wake of Chef LaSalle's absence.

It was time for a change in tack.

She eased up on her team a little. Instead of hammering into them, she shrugged off during that night's dinner prep. She straight up told them she was already established and could get a job anywhere and that it was their asses that were on line: Told them she didn't give a flying fuck if they were going to run the restaurant into the ground and then she promptly left.

If doing a dinner service on their own didn't scare the shit out of them, she wasn't sure what would. While diners may not have noticed that her workers were getting a little sluggish, a little less meticulous, she had tallied up the number of mistakes and there was no doubt the team was getting complacent.

Emmett had shown up at her apartment yesterday out of the blue, surprising the hell out of her with the news that he was in town for business and wanted to spend some time catching up. He had suggested they get her a birthday drink, while they were at it. Now seemed like a good time to take him up on that offer and he met her at the restaurant, catching the tail end of her motivational speech to the team.

At the moment, she and the big bear were freezing their asses off next to the Chicago River, at his insistence, and she was wishing she could push him right in. The water, churning and steel gray, was not welcome sight for anyone trying to conjure up warm thoughts.

"That was some talk, Achy." Emmett pulled his coat closer and nudged her shoulder, and she gave him a tired groan. Achy was his unfortunate nickname for her, one borne of a tragic pre-teen obsession with the song "Achy, Breaky, Heart" by the mullet master, Billy Ray Cyrus, himself. She was an early 90's girl from Biloxi and hell if she didn't know about one hundred other girls her age that also had a soft spot for the song.

"Well, it's the only way they'll learn, Mimi." She had a few names for Emmett as well.

He smirked. "Fair enough, we'll dispense with the nicknames."

"I wasn't using a nickname." Alice shrugged innocently and made her big brother laugh.

Alice steered them past a covered fountain at the end of Lake Shore, with water falling in frozen sheets and giant, tapered icicles hanging from the inside, giving the effect that fountain held a mouthful of jagged teeth.

You could pretty much smell the cold, but Emmett didn't seem to mind. Maybe it was all his extra padding; marriage had made him a little soft around the mid-section.

Strolling along a row of too beautiful to afford river cottages, Emmett told her all about Rose, about the baby and how ecstatic she was about things like morning sickness and gaining weight. Pregnancy wasn't always the glamorous and life affirming experience some women made it out to be, but it didn't seem to Alice that Rose cared.

"I've never seen a woman so happy to get fat!" Emmett exclaimed, a little too loudly. A few fellow pedestrians gave him some odd looks.

Alice laughed along with him.

"You guys have waited long time, I'm happy for her. For both of you."

"Yeah it's pretty cool. Life is good."

They chattered on about their surroundings for a bit, making their way through the various tiers of the city and stopping just past the LaSalle St. Bridge. A small corner of the city beyond the bridge boasted a beautiful urban space, too small and intimate to be considered a park. But it was a place Alice sometimes headed to during the spring and summertime to just read a book or spend by herself and people watch for a few hours. The ground rose and folded into a series of wide stone steps. Each one was carpeted in a layer of manicured grass, like an ultimate compromise had been reached between nature and the city. Rows of globe shaped lampposts flanked either side. It was icy and frozen over now, but no less inviting. They both took a seat on the lowest stair.

Emmet lifted his head to look at the bridge, getting a face full of wind coming off the water.

"The city's been good for you, huh?" he asked.

"Not when it wants to kill me, Emmett. I'm freezing, we'd better get somewhere indoors soon unless we both want to lose all our fingers."

"Just a few minutes, we've got time." Emmett promised. He shuffled through his pockets and produced a package of nicotine gum. "I'd offer you some but it's pretty fucking nasty."

Alice lifted her hands in gesture of "No, thanks" and he smiled.

"We've talked me to death, Alice, and I have a feeling that's because you're trying to avoid us talking about you." Emmett suddenly stated, chewing his gum and veering the conversation off course.

She shook the question off, feigning boredom. "There's not really anything to tell. I'm either at work, or thinking of work and ways to scare the shit out of everyone else." she joked.

Emmett wasn't convinced.

"You seem a little too caught up in your head, nowadays, Alice." he observed. "All that stuff with your boyfriend in San Francisco was fucked up, but it's not your fault. You're allowed to live your life."

Alice stiffened. Her mind and heart began racing with the fact that everyone seemed hell bent on bringing up Peter and Jasper and all of it, and she couldn't understand why anybody wouldn't leave it alone. She broke herself out of her momentary daze, defensive and taken aback.

"I am doing exactly that, if you haven't noticed." she spit out. "This is me, living my life. I have a great job and friends and I'm just fine. Why does everyone think they need to remind me about all the things that went wrong in my life. I mean, goddamnit, Emmett!" She exasperatedly rubbed her face in her hands. "I don't really want to think about that." She stood and paced a few steps, trying to steady her breathing. Emmett didn't deserve her anger, she knew that, but it seemed everything was converging on her and she couldn't stop any of it.

A Chicago architecture boat tour floated by on the river, the occupants bundled up and the guide's vice booming through a megaphone.

They were silent for a few moments, until it fully passed.

"I know I'm a shit for bringing it up, I'm sorry." Emmett apologized. "But, regardless, it's been affecting you for a while and you know it."

Alice opened her mouth.

"I already know what you're going to say, and I will mind my own damn business as soon as I make sure you're okay. I wouldn't exactly be a good brother if I didn't check up on you every once in a while. When you don't return any of my e-mails or calls for a month, I tend to get a little worried." he finished ruefully.

Alice suddenly realized it wasn't exactly a coincidence Emmett happened to be in Chicago.

"You're not here on business, are you?"

He shrugged. "Sure, family business."

Alice opened and shut her mouth and floundered to find the rights words to apologize. She felt like an idiot. A guilty idiot.

"Ah, shit Emmett, I'm sorry. I kept meaning to call and then I got busy. And holy crap this last week was beyond crazy, and I completely forgot, and now you're here and you had to leave Rose." She caught her breath. "You shouldn't have come. I didn't_ ask_ you to come." she accused him.

Emmett shook his head. "That didn't stop me. I wanted to come. And Rose understands. That's not the point." He gave a big sigh. "Look, if you say you're okay, that you're happy, that you're okay with working yourself to the point of exhaustion, that's fine, I'll go along with it. Just remember what Mama used to say."

Well, Mama said a lot of things but she knew what Emmett was referring to.

She could imagine Mama now in front of a small yellow clapboard house, hands sunken deep beneath soil as she turned over the flowerbeds in the springtime. She never used gardening gloves and her hands were caked in dirt and covered in tiny red streaks and scratches from pulling weeds and dodging thorns.

Alice had come crying to her about some teenage embarrassment, some boy or some friend, exclaiming she didn't think it was possible to be so unhappy. Something so ridiculous she could barely believe her mother hadn't slapped her upside the head and told her to stop whining.

Mama had entertained her, nonetheless.

_"Happiness is as much a choice in life a getting up in the morning or feeding yourself, Alice." Mama's voice was a little rough on the edges. She was an unapologetic smoker but Alice couldn't imagine her sounding any other way. "You can choose to be happy, in the same way you can choose to be miserable. The difference is, the happy people seem like the kinds who tend to overcome the thing that made them so unhappy in the first place. And I don't mean skipping in a meadow and tra-la-la-ing until the cows come home. I mean having the sense to realize when to move on from something bad in your life and then making the best choices for you."_

Mama had been dead almost eight years now, and Emmett had taken care of everything, including the house. He sold it quickly so they both wouldn't have to linger down there for too long to wrap up all her affairs. In all honesty, Alice just couldn't bear the sight of it, her grief weighing her down every second she spent there.

Mama had had two husbands, the first who brought Emmett with him, and then had the audacity to leave them both behind as he disappeared into the night. The second had given Mama Alice, and she always talked about him like he was a good man, but _he_ had the audacity to die before Alice could have any lasting memories of him. Mama knew a thing or two about choosing to be happy, despite the cards she was dealt.

Alice didn't think Mama would be too sympathetic with what her right now; she would have something else to say about the choices Alice had made.

"Yeah, I remember what Mama said. It's a lot easier said than done."

Emmett looked thoughtful, getting up to join her.

"Maybe. But maybe you have more control over what happens in your life now than you actually think."

Alice was about to argue that she was always in control, when she realized that wasn't what he meant. He meant control to make things better, to move on and maybe let people back in again. He didn't know just how little she deserved to do any of that.

She didn't answer. Instead she stamped her feet to get some of the feeling back in her toes and exhaled, steam rising before her.

Emmett got the message. She was done talking about this particular subject. "Alright, it's cold. Why don't we go get that drink."

Alice checked her watch. "It's 5 o'clock. Why don't we walk back to the restaurant and I can put my sous chef in charge. Ben's probably freaking the fuck out that I'm not back yet. And then," she hooked her arm into Emmett's and tugged him forward, "_I _will take _you_ to dinner. It's the least I can do for dragging you all the way here." she finished softly, a small apology for the worry she had put him through.

"You didn't drag me anywhere, but if you insist, I'm pretty starved." Emmett grinned widely. "Whatever the birthday girl wants."

He unhooked his arm and lifted it over shoulder, holding her in a tight side hug as they walked back.

"So, I'm following your lead, Chef. Where are you taking me?"

"There's a great Greek restaurant in Wicker Park. They've got a great wine list and lots of lamb." Emmett grunted in approval and patted his stomach. "There's usually a roving band of hipsters or two in that area, but I'll protect you." She knocked her shoulder against his side. .

Emmett sneered in doubt. "_You _protecting _me_? I'd like to see you try, short stuff."

He rubbed her cap and hair into her eyes and for a moment it was like they hadn't grown up at all; just two kids and their Mama in that yellow house.

* * *

That night, after Emmett had been fed and watered and walked to his hotel, Alice found herself alone and attempting to make her way back home in peace and quiet. When she was by herself, she found her thoughts increased in both number and volume, to the point she was barely aware of anything else. She had offered to let Emmett stay at her place but he had declined, saying the hotel room was paid in full through the week. While she hadn't expected him to be staying for that long a time, she wasn't about to argue with him. Life was fun, and simple, and a lot easier with Emmett around, and he had even talked about Rose joining them in a few days. Alice had said she thought it would be nice. And it would be nice, really nice to have her family meet her friends, and see where she worked, and just _be_ there for her. And maybe she could finally do the same.

What wouldn't be so nice was if Jasper decided to show up at any point and upend everything.

None of her friends or family actually _knew_ anything about Jasper. She had no idea if he was even still in the city, despite what he said last week. Whatever he had planned, he had to leave and go back home eventually, and the thought somewhat comforted her. He wouldn't always be around to make her confused and ashamed and so damn guilty she couldn't even stand.

All of Emmett's talk about control echoed in her mind, but Alice wasn't so sure any of it was actually true. Not for the first time, she pulled out her phone, slowly scrolling up the contacts list until she found the name she was looking for.

**Jasper H. (Cell)**

There it was. For all the hell they had gone through, she couldn't bring herself to delete his number. She was sure he hated her at this point and could she really blame him? She hated him a little bit, too. She hated everything that had led them here.

At one point in the past it seemed as if Alice was completely in and out of control at the same time. She had reached a point of no return and rolled head first into what she thought happiness should be.

But Emmett didn't know anything about that. No one did.

It had been a secret. Her secret.

_Their fight had been bad tonight. Alice was shaking from the force of her sobs, kneeling on the floor as she splayed her hands on the woven area rug in her living room. She felt for splintered shards of broken glass, careful not to press too hard as she looked. She slumped back on her heels when she realized she probably should go find a vacuum, or try and sweep up the glass that had skittered onto the hardwood, or do…something. Anything to fix what had just happened._

_Peter had just left, slamming the door on his way out, and Alice had learned the hard way that the issues she had thought were insignificant- fixable- had glommed together to form the massive heartbreak she was currently facing. Everything had grown out of control so quickly: Shrugged annoyances to venom tipped accusations. Averted kisses to outright lies. What she had thought been love had warped into…hate?_

_Maybe or maybe not. She certainly didn't have that loving feeling for Peter at this moment or during the increasingly bitter encounters she could recount from the last year. There was nothing but mounting hostility at his need to keep things from her and his utter disregard for their relationship. _

_No, instead her feelings had invested themselves elsewhere, twisting and drifting until she had come to the realization that she had unknowingly fallen into…something…with someone else. _

_Such shittty timing and circumstances. _

_ She scrubbed that idea quickly from her mind. What had she ever done to deserve this? Things had been good, too good, when they had first started. There was something unspoken, some magical quality that made them inseparable; something that had literally given her no pause when she followed him to California. At the beginning, there was no "if" for her when it came to Pete, it was a "when": When do we move? When do we tell our friends? When do I meet your family? When are you going to ask me to fucking marry you?"_

_Too many "whens" and not enough answers. While the engagement ring was right there on her finger, it felt like an empty promise. It was as if he proposed just to satisfy some notion she had, with no intention of actually following through on the perfunctorily stated words. She had been excited, and then not so much when he asked her to keep it to herself a little longer, just until he could find some more freelance work, and maybe scrap together an application for film school. Her big engagement celebration consisted of some half-hearted congratulations over tequila shots with Jasper. Their supposed future together was in a dimly lit apartment with Pete avoiding her, and Alice spending her time and energy trying to pull back the curtains on his personal life. _

_She had arrived home from work tonight in a foul mood, tired and with the heat of the kitchen still pressing down on her. She and her team had been worked to the bone and service had been less than rewarding. Three plates sent back, a handful of irate customers waiting on delayed meals, and three malfunctioning burners and she was ready to throw in her smock and get as much distance from the restaurant as possible. She had even snuck in a few thimble sized glasses of a disgustingly expensive bottle of Chartreuse with her most trustworthy line cook; a black dot on her otherwise unwavering professionalism in the kitchen. More than anything, she wanted sleep and a considerate boyfriend who would maybe make her something to eat and would agree to hold her until she fell asleep in bed. The last thing she had wanted to walk into was said boyfriend hurriedly sweeping his palms over their coffee table, with white residue streaking his hands as what looked like a small fortune's worth of cocaine spilled onto the ground. Two of his new-found friends from the area, one of which had to have been his dealer, lounged on the other couch, barely registering her presence. _

_"What the hell, Alice? You said you'd be late tonight!"_

_And that had done it. The drugs she had known about somewhat, but it disgusted her, the extent to which he was wasting both of their time and money to fund his sick habit. The check he had received from his last job was most likely now in powder form, and she wouldn't have put it past him to have dipped into the emergency fund she kept under their bed. Using her as a scapegoat for wasting a small hill of coke was now just insanity. _

_The next 10 minutes were a hysterical blur; it was all screaming and swearing and a competition in how loud they could tell each other to 'go to hell'._

_Alice felt as if she was already there. _

_The mirror he had used for cutting lines had ended up a shattered mess when she lost control and heaved it against the wall, and he had gathered up his coat and wallet while muttering that she was a crazy bitch. His impressive companions followed after him and tossed her some nervous looks as they struggled to conceal how high they actually were._

_ He left, as each of them had done so many times before, and here she was. Her back ached from leaning over and she thought of just getting up and putting the day behind her. But her body stubbornly refused to move without the leverage of her hands, and as she put one down, it slipped and met the side of the small heap of glass. The piercing sensation almost came as a shock, and she quickly fell against the foot of the couch behind her. Alice bit her lip and let out a hiss of pain, hurriedly unsticking the three smaller shards that had shallowly embedded themselves in her skin. She brought her hand closer to her face, inspecting the damage. Her palm stung but the bleeding was already tapering off; it wasn't anything serious and she wouldn't need stitches. Still, the bloodied shards glinted in the dim light, and she glared at the mess, at her hand, and around the empty apartment, where there was no one to even hear her cry out. _

_Her phone had fallen to the ground beside her and chirped, almost apologetically as if it knew what she was going through and just wanted to let her know, that when she had time to deal with it, there was a text message waiting on her phone. _

_She robotically lifted it and swiped her finger across the screen. _

**_From: Jasper H. _**

**_Hey Alice, I feel like an idiot. I hate the fact that we fought, I had 2 mch to drink. If you rlly wnt, I can try and talk to pete. I will. I can't make ne promises, or that he'll even listen, but I want u to be okay. I want us to be okay. That stuff bfore was b-shit, of course we r friends. _**

_Alice stared, her thoughts fuzzy like static, everything and nothing making sense._

_"What the hell am I doing?"_

_Almost immediately she sprang up, her mind racing with the consequences of what she was contemplating. _

_She was sick of crying, her face tight with the salty trails of her tears. It was almost like a_

_ mask she had created, finally cracking with the strength of building revelations. _

_Peter sure as hell wasn't crying. He wasn't bleeding his body and soul into this relationship, and she didn't plan to either. Not anymore. _

_And she had denied it beyond all reason, but someone was waiting for her, willing to put his own life on hold to be there for her. It was so stupid that she had waited this long. Then again, maybe this was the perfect moment for her to realize this, and he would be happy that she came to her own conclusion. _

_Jasper wasn't selfish or manipulative or malicious. He was just waiting for her to understand what he had known all along. _

_She hit his contact on her phone as she gathered her things. Jasper picked up after one ring._

_"Hello?"_

_Alice paused, readying herself, making sure her voice wouldn't crack. She took a beat too long._

_"Hello?" Jasper asked again, some anxiety crowding his voice. He had to have seen it was her from his Caller ID and she could tell her silence was making him nervous. _

_"Jasper."_

_"Alice, hi." Pause. "You got my text?" he offered awkwardly. _

_"Yeah." Her voice was solid now, no sign of losing her nerve. "Yeah I did. Listen-"_

_"I'm really sorry, it was so dumb." he interrupted._

_"It's fine. It's really fine." she hurriedly replied. And it was. "Look, are you home?"_

_"Uh, yeah. Whatsup?" He sounded confused. _

_"Can I come over?"_

_"Right now? You want to talk now?" Anxiety once again crept into his voice, and she couldn't help but smirk a little. _

_"Yeah, but not about what you think."_

_"Oh." He considered that for a moment. "Oh, okay. I guess you can come over if it's not too late for you. Um, is everything alright-?"_

_"It's fine." Alice rushed through her words. "Everything's great. I'll be right over."_

_"Alice-."_

_She hung up before he could say another word, found her purse, and headed out the door. _

_Her mind raced with the memory of all those times they had spoken in each other's confidence, talking about Peter, but also other things: Their lives and what they thought was important. She had even had a few close acquaintances tease her about how they couldn't seem to go one day without texting each other about how ridiculous Jasper's Instagram profile was (he only took pictures of manhole covers), or about some stupid viral Internet video, or even just to say hey. _

_It had just been a joke._

_ There wasn't any hidden meaning behind it for Alice. She thought that was just what friends did. _

_But not really. Not when it was with the man she had steadily grown closer to and who seemed to be available for her whenever she needed him. Not when it was the man for whom her attraction, and respect, and affection was building exponentially every day. Over time their relationship had become less about Peter, and a whole lot more about them. Their dynamic had been so easy and uncomplicated relative to Peter's self-destructive spiral; it was comical that Alice had nearly missed what Jasper actually meant to her. _

_Well, she knew now. And she was going to do something about it. _

_The ten blocks to his apartment were nothing but an afterthought, her feet racing over concrete slabs of sidewalk as she made it to the front of his building and found the button for 3A. Jasper immediately buzzed her through and she blew past the door and up the stairs. _

_He met her at the top of the landing, slightly disheveled in a way that made her think he'd been lying in his rumpled work clothes all evening, running his hands through his hair with his forehead creased in concern. He furrowed his eyebrows in a concentrated stare when he saw her taking the steps two at a time. She couldn't help but feel like he had walked out to meet her and find some clue as to what exactly she was doing here. She stopped when she reached the top, unsure of what to do next. _

_"Hi." Alice said lamely. Now that she was here, seeing him almost took her breath away. _

_"Hey". He motioned towards the hallway. "You wanna go inside?"_

_"Yeah."_

_His apartment was warm and inviting for a bachelor pad, something she had always known but had never fully appreciated. Furniture was sparse, but with Jasper working so much he probably only needed the couch and his bed. Instead, there were the framed vintage movie prints and a few of Jasper's original photographs adorning the walls, and clusters of potted English ivy grouped so closely together she couldn't tell where one plant began and the other ended. He had music playing in the room and the crooning, sappy women on Jasper's stereo posed the question "How does your heart beat?" to no one in particular. Alice wanted to answer that her heart wasn't beating right now, like it was suspended somewhere outside of her body. _

_She felt she was viewing everything with new eyes. An ivy vine reached out to her like a finger, beckoning her to come closer. _

_He noticed her staring at it. _

_"Yeah it's beginning to look like fucking Sleeping Beauty's castle in here, have to trim that down." He smiled and shrugged, a little more at ease._

_"I like it." she simply replied. She gingerly touched a fingertip to the vine, causing it to sway lightly. "And that's kind of the reason I'm here."_

_Jasper chuckled. "What?"_

_When Alice didn't reply his head snapped back to her, detecting something else in her words. "What do you mean?" _

_Alice approached slowly and gathered her courage, letting out the words she had been holding in all night and that had been bursting to come out on her way to meet Jasper. It was such a relief to finally acknowledge the truth._

_"I don't think I love Peter, anymore. I don't think I have for a while. It's all too much to process right now, and it's sudden, but the thing is…I don't love him. It's all pretty much gone to shit and I've accepted that."_

_Jasper's eyes widened with every word. His hand locked on the back of his head and he rubbed it in disbelief. Clearly he hadn't been expecting this when she had called. Maybe he thought she wanted to smooth over their argument and think of ways to get Peter some help, but not this. He looked at her once, dropped his eyes, and then looked up at her again. Pacing to a corner of the room, he put his back to her, his shoulders rigid with tension. _

_"Why are you telling me this?" he asked softly. His voice was muffled by the fact he wasn't facing her and she wanted to see him for what she was about to tell him next. She needed to. _

_"I think you know why, Jasper. You said you didn't want to be friends. I can't believe how long it took me to actually hear what you were saying, but fucking Christ, I'm glad you actually said it." She threw her hands in the hair, half in amusement and half in exasperation for her own inability to see what was really going on. _

_Jasper tried to wheel his words back in defense. "I didn't mean that, I -."_

_"No you did mean that." Alice interrupted. "Don't deny it. And it's okay that you meant it because I don't want to be friends, either." _

_He stayed where he was, unmoving and still as if he couldn't believe what she was saying. _

_She quietly stepped up to him, so close up against his back that she couldn't help but slide her hand onto his shoulder. He was firm, so solid and warm that she could almost feel herself melting into him and when that happened, she wouldn't be able to move away._

_Now she could definitely feel her chest hammering and realized Jasper's pulse was also leaping through his own body and right into their point of contact. Their heartbeats were synced into a crazy and surreal rhythm. _

_"I don't want to say anything to Peter yet. He's such a mess. We're such a mess." Alice waited for a response, some sneer from Jasper that he thought she wasn't really being honest and her withholding meant she was unsure about Peter. But Jasper remained silent. "I want to wait until we can figure out what this is. I think I know where I stand, but do you?"_

_"What exactly are you suggesting?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. _

_"I'm suggesting we take it slowly. And that maybe you turn around so we can figure out the first step."_

_Jasper broke from his position and he finally faced her. He lifted his arms and his hands cupped her face. They were moving even closer now. _

_Jasper's forehead came to rest on hers. _

_Her hands automatically crept onto his waist. She slid her right leg between both of his and her face flushed with the fact that they were both almost on top of each other, standing like this. _

_He searched her eyes without saying anything and Alice could feel them both shaking from the enormity of what they had started. And what they could become. _

_When he spoke again, his voice was wounded, so vulnerable that she was sure his insides were shattering with every breath. _

_"I'm risking the longest friendship I've had Alice, and I'm not sure I even care that I'm going to hell for screwing Peter over like this. And for that reason, you need to understand where I'm coming from." He swallowed, a hard sound that made her heart ache. "I'm not a rebound. I'm not a distraction and you…" He held her face tighter. "This is real to me, you're it for me. I'm not going anywhere and it's going to fucking break me if you don't really mean what you're saying."_

_Alice knew she held his heart in her hand. But what he didn't know was how easily he could hurt her, too._

_"Do you want to be with me?" _

_Jasper nodded, his gaze so intensely honest, and it was the only answer she needed._

_"Well, okay then."_

_She pressed her lips to the hand on her face and then tilted her head up and settled on his cheek. She cautiously kissed down to his jaw and thought it was so odd to be kissing her best friend but at the same time something very right about it. Before she could think it through any further, he crushed their lips together and it was strange for a few seconds; the way their mouths were open and the way they breathed each other in without moving. _

_She didn't care. She could have stayed like that for as long as they both needed. _

_Jasper spoke against her mouth and filled her with his whispered plea._

_"Don't hurt me, Alice."_

_She couldn't offer empty reassurances but she'd be damned if she didn't say what she felt now. _

_"I don't want to, Jasper."_

* * *

A/N: So there's a little insight into why Alice may have stayed with Peter for so long, including her sometimes less than idyllic childhood. Also, she's a cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater, but she's kinda justified at this point, right? Chicago is basically a three tier city and everything along the Riverwalk is gorgeous. Please review (Also I'm not above a little bribery, if I get more than 10 reviews this chapter, I promise to give everyone who reviewed a piece of the next chapter!:)


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